<?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-394900583380881598</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:34:23.943-08:00</updated><category term='Marriage'/><category term='Thanks'/><category term='Miscarriage'/><category term='Pets'/><category term='Dear God Letters'/><category term='Love'/><title type='text'>My Everyday Release</title><subtitle type='html'>A journal of my thoughts for you to justify or argue.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-8422322580463277265</id><published>2010-01-12T09:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T09:54:56.144-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding strength in my convictions...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/S0yxF8oBvyI/AAAAAAAAAHY/_v64ZPIZBXc/s1600-h/Aiden+Edward+Michel+290.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425906366806081314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/S0yxF8oBvyI/AAAAAAAAAHY/_v64ZPIZBXc/s320/Aiden+Edward+Michel+290.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; even know how to jump into this subject as it is completely overwhelming for me. I have so many &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;daa&lt;/span&gt;-gone convictions its difficult to live up to them all.  I end up overwhelmed and reaching none of my personal goals because it just seems too difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its like when you spend a certain amount of time &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;exercising&lt;/span&gt; on a regular basis and then for some reason you stop. Why stop? Life I suppose gets us all off track now and then. We end up looking back on the time of regular exercise and asking ourselves why we stopped. We looked good we felt good. I just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know the answer but I know I am way off track right now, way off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then about these convictions. What are they? Well...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I want to have good mornings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By good mornings I mean when I get up and have to go to work that day I would like for it to go smoothly.  Know what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; going to wear. Know what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; is going to wear. Have his diaper bag and lunch done the night before. Have my pump ready to go ( sorry guys).  Have time for breakfast, have time to feed &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; breakfast. To enjoy (gasp) the morning would be wonderful! I hate feeling rushed it ruins my well, morning haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gets deeper. To have good mornings then I must have good nights and my 10 month old son is not a very good sleeper (sorry baby). So... to have a good morning I have to get sleep at night which means &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; has to get sleep at night and that is truly overwhelming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; has never, NEVER slept a full night in is crib. I have never, NEVER really tried. I know my baby and I know that it is going to be a painful, terrible struggle getting him in the crib.  I just hate to confuse him. The truth is that I like the idea of co-sleeping and so does my husband. Its just that he wants to nurse all night, about every two hours. I have trouble getting back to sleep and I am so so tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to throw in that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; 5 months pregnant with baby number two! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt; and fear! I know that I will want the newborn by my side and I just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; going to deal with three people in the room after my breast! Ha Ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; in his crib because I just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; think I can physically or mentally &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;handle&lt;/span&gt; sharing my room with two nursing babes and I just feel horrible  and cruel as if &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; taking time away from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; that he deserves from his momma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to have a good morning first I have to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; to have a good night, then I have to have a good night, have to quit hitting snooze,  have to be ready the night before... oh and my husband works out of town and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; home through the week so he cannot help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is one conviction that is so overwhelming I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know if I can list anymore today. I think that if I keep blogging on a regular basis it will help me to keep myself in check and my goals as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to journal. Nothing helps me know myself better. So I guess that is a conviction, lets see if I can live up to it and my next post Ill mention one of the 100 other things that I would like to be doing and or doing better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I will try very hard to get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Aiden&lt;/span&gt; to sleep in his crib. That is my first step to my good mornings. Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-8422322580463277265?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/8422322580463277265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=8422322580463277265' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/8422322580463277265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/8422322580463277265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2010/01/finding-strength-in-my-convictions.html' title='Finding strength in my convictions...'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/S0yxF8oBvyI/AAAAAAAAAHY/_v64ZPIZBXc/s72-c/Aiden+Edward+Michel+290.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-1266222856667228462</id><published>2009-10-10T17:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T18:08:25.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aiden Edward, my one day!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/StEl4r7DgUI/AAAAAAAAAHA/8JyYnu1aiWo/s1600-h/Lins+2+012.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391131884732514626" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/StEl4r7DgUI/AAAAAAAAAHA/8JyYnu1aiWo/s320/Lins+2+012.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Aiden Edward, my son. The son that I thought would never come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have loved my whole life, I'm a lover! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But this is the love of loves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The love of a mother is well, just that- The love of a mother. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A child puts things in perspective. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How big this world is and how small the great things are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a new heart that lives outside of my chest. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He is my joy! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is my fear!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am forever grateful to my God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have not forgotten the 6 miscarriages. As a matter of fact at times I get more upset than I used to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I know how I would have loved those babies. I do love those babies. I know that their souls were created for great things! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know that Aiden has 6 brothers or sisters to protect him everyday!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Aiden is my new teacher. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He has taught me to enjoy the simple things in life.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few days ago he held a stick for the first time. Usually everything goes straight to his mouth, but not the stick. The stick was so new and different that he held it with both hands, shaking with excitement. My 7 month old son can see the beauty in what is simple and good. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am so proud. &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;I am so blessed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391138322911199058" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/StErvcAd_1I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/9V-gzVgKHOY/s320/Lins+2+040.JPG" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&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/394900583380881598-1266222856667228462?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/1266222856667228462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=1266222856667228462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/1266222856667228462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/1266222856667228462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2009/10/aiden-edward-my-some-day.html' title='Aiden Edward, my one day!'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/StEl4r7DgUI/AAAAAAAAAHA/8JyYnu1aiWo/s72-c/Lins+2+012.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-7737435801050759982</id><published>2007-08-17T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-17T13:49:58.361-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Miscarriage'/><title type='text'>One Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RsX_SJudP7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/k8NBySZVzok/s1600-h/DSC00706.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099762840380456882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RsX_SJudP7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/k8NBySZVzok/s320/DSC00706.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is a post that is not easy for me to write about.  However, I have found through the years that something in writing frees me.  It allows me to get things out in the air and off of my chest.  While &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; writing I am honest with myself and I get a chance to get my honest feelings said. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have had three miscarriages.  One when I was 18 with a boy I dated for about three years.  Two with my husband.  Miscarriages are horrible and heartbreaking.  I have never had a child, so I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know the joy that might bring.  I have just been taunted with the excitement of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;possibility&lt;/span&gt; of children three times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To all of you out there who have had a miscarriage I want to say I know how you feel.  I can say that because I do.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am writing I guess to tell others who have not experienced a miscarriage of what not to say to a women who has suffered this kind of loss.  I am giving you this information because it should be said.  Maybe it will help you or someone you know dealing with this.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt; SAY:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. " I know how you feel." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know how she feels.  You might think you know especially if you have children of your own, but I really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; think you can, especially if you have children of your own.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Imagine if you never had those children and the biggest question on your mind is if you will ever be able to have them.  Please &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; say you know how we feel, because all we want is to know how you feel.  To feel like you do in the morning when you wake up to your baby crying for you.  We want to feel that way.  We &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want you to feel the way we do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. "Everything will be alright." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; First of all nothing is alright.  What's alright is getting prego and having babies.  Whats not right is getting prego and losing babies.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; say its alright, its all wrong.  While I understand what people are getting at, yeah life will go on but the life that was in me wont and that's not alright with me or any women who has had a miscarriage.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. "It was for the best."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Man this is the worst one.  how could it be for the best?  Please never ever say that.  She can say that, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; you say that, she might hit you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. " It happens all the time, or its normal."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No, its not normal.  Whats normal is having babies.  Its not normal to have a miscarriage.  Nothing at all seems "normal" about it.  It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; happen all the time either.  A lot of times it creates a baby, not a heartache.  This is not a event that should be expected or like "ho hum" this happens all the time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.  "Its nature's way."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If it is nature's way then nature's way sucks and that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; make us feel any better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now here are some things that you  can say that made me feel a little better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  Give an example.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you know someone who has had this problem but went on to have kids.  This can give her hope.  She wants the facts now.  She &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; just want sympathy she wants to hear that maybe she can overcome that others have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Just say "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sorry"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She knows there &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; anything that great to say.  This shows her that you care and that you are sad for her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  Tell her " Its okay to cry and its normal to be upset"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Let her know you know she is upset.  Let her let it out.  Even if you have not had a miscarriage yourself you can still be there for her without acting like you know what its like.  My sister who has never had a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;miscarriage&lt;/span&gt; and has two children said this to me and I balled. Then I felt a lot better and I hated her less for being able to have children.  ha ha kidding  ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There really is not one right or wrong thing to say.  Just be careful with your words because she is listening very carefully to you.  She wants your love and care right now.  Be careful not to belittle her situation its a big deal even if she acts like she is blowing it off you shouldn't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am feeling better already!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Please if you have any feelings to this post do share!  Someday I will hopefully make a post of how I had a baby after multiple miscarriages !&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-7737435801050759982?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/7737435801050759982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=7737435801050759982' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/7737435801050759982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/7737435801050759982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/08/one-day.html' title='One Day'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RsX_SJudP7I/AAAAAAAAAEE/k8NBySZVzok/s72-c/DSC00706.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-9209209018017462641</id><published>2007-07-30T07:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T07:33:24.370-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>Me and You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/Rq31PgrUpJI/AAAAAAAAAD8/UGJa7rw6vwc/s1600-h/s188300131_30051425_565.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092996400444384402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 183px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="142" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/Rq31PgrUpJI/AAAAAAAAAD8/UGJa7rw6vwc/s320/s188300131_30051425_565.jpg" width="130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Me and You. That was our wedding song. We had so much fun that night! I guess I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;haven't&lt;/span&gt; really taken the time to think about that day until now. July 28&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Th&lt;/span&gt; 2006 is our wedding date. We just celebrated our first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;anniversary&lt;/span&gt; this past weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We celebrated by painting our bathroom. Sounds like lots of fun, right? Well, we actually did have fun. I guess &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; why we got married. Our lives are fun together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can painting a bathroom be fun you ask. Ill tell you. We were blaring a mix of Hank Williams Jr, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;AC DC&lt;/span&gt;, and I tried to listen to some old No &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Doubt&lt;/span&gt; but that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; very fun for Scott so we put in some other old school tunes and played... I mean painted ALL DAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; going to tell the story of Scott and I, mostly for him and myself but maybe it will help to take my readers back to a time when they first fell in love. I think it is important to remember those times and cherish them. I never want to forget the reasons I fell in love with Scott or how special he is to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the small town in Ohio where I grew up there are two Catholic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Elementary&lt;/span&gt; Schools. St. Nicholas and St. Thomas Aquinas. The year is 1989 and Scott and Lindsay are off to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Kindergarten&lt;/span&gt;. Scott goes to St. Nick and Lindsay goes to St. Tom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first time the two meet would not be until their 2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ND&lt;/span&gt; grade year. The two schools celebrate the sacrament of Holy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Communion&lt;/span&gt; together. Lindsay can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;vaguely&lt;/span&gt; remember the little Scott from back then, however looking back today it seems the two were always on the same path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the years to come there would be more celebrations that the schools held together. Reconciliation, Confirmation, and Graduation into High School. In all of these celebrations Lindsay and Scott were polite and friendly to each other, nothing more and nothing less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scott went onto Bishop Rosecrans for his freshmen year. Lindsay decided to go to West High, a public school that her parents had chosen. She was quick to make new friends and the school was a good fit for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first few months of high school passed by and Scott was less than satisfied with the High School he had chosen, not that it was a bad school but he had a few friends that attended a public school. Scott had heard of the Agriculture programs being offered in public schools. Naturally this was interesting to Scott due to his love for the outdoors. So he made the choice to attend West, the same school that Lindsay was attending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At lunchtime Scott and Lindsay often sat at the same table. Laughing and gossiping with friends the way that high school students do, not paying too much attention to the other. In classes Lindsay would look for a seat and see Scott sitting in the back with an empty desk by him. She knew that Scott would if anything be entertaining to sit beside, being the comedian that he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years past by and Scott and Lindsay remained friends all through High School. Finally their Senior year came around and it was Homecoming season. One day in class Scott asked Lindsay who she was going to take to the Homecoming. Lindsay told him nobody had asked her yet. Scott told Lindsay that Jarrod wanted to ask her but he was scared she would say no. Lindsay told Scott that she would like to go with Jarrod.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They dated their entire senior year. They became very close friends however as High School came to an end and jobs and college began they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;realized&lt;/span&gt; that what they had together was a friendship and not a relationship. So Jarrod and Lindsay stayed friends and went their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;separate&lt;/span&gt; ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The years passed and Scott found a pretty girl that he liked. They went to parties and had a lot of good times together but it was never &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;enough&lt;/span&gt; to just be together. They always had to be at a party or out. These types of relationships just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; seem to last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile Lindsay had a boyfriend that went college to play football in Tennessee. As hard as it was for her to admit this type of relationship was more of a fairytale than real life and it just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scott and Lindsay had to face the facts. The people that they had chosen to love had chosen to love other things like game days and big parties. Neither of which were very important to Lindsay or Scott. So with heavy hearts and many tears cried they moved on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another year passed by and there were different guys in and out of Lindsay's life but she was afraid to open up. A broken heart is hard to mend. Scott tried to find another girlfriend as well but he was busy trying to work a full time job and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; have time for parties and good time friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay started to think that maybe she would never find someone. That maybe her heart was too broken and she would never be able to truly give it to somebody again. As much as she wanted to love there comes a time when you have been hurt so much that you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to run the risk of feeling that kind of pain again. At least if she was alone nobody could hurt her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scott still went out with his buddies, at least he could go out and have a good time on the weekends. It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;isn't&lt;/span&gt; easy when all your friends are going out all the time and have girlfriends, but he got by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;evening&lt;/span&gt; Lindsay's little sister Caitlin called her. She told Lindsay that her boyfriend was having a big party and she should come. Lindsay &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; sure but she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; have much else to do so it sure beat sitting alone again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay pulled into the drive way, it was packed with cars and people standing around. For a second she thought about going back home. She was nervous. Who would be there? Did she look okay? What if they all stare at her? She took a deep breath and headed for the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she got inside she thought "great". The whole living room was full of couples. What was she supposed to do, sit and watch them? Even her sister was there with her boyfriend. Just as she started to tell Caitlin she was just going to go home she saw a free seat on the couch next to Scott. He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; have a girl with him so Lindsay thought to herself well if nothing else at least it would be entertaining to sit by Scott, being the comedian that he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they sat beside each other and laughed all night long. Scott kept trying to hold her hand, but Lindsay thought he was just joking around. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; just how Scott is. Always flirting and joking, but at least she was finally having a good time. She glanced around the room and everybody was gone. My goodness it was nearly 2:00 am. They both had to go to work the next morning so they decided to call it a night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day at work she kept thinking of how much fun Scott was the night before. Who would have thought he was that fun? And why &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;hadn't&lt;/span&gt; she noticed that before? She tried to get him out of her head because she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; know if she wanted to take it any further. Besides she had known Scott her whole life and obviously there was nothing between them, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days passed and Lindsay's little sister called her and said that her boyfriend was having people over again. Lindsay felt her heart beat like a drum in her chest, cheeks turning red &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;hot&lt;/span&gt;, would he be there? Then she thought wait a second its just Scott so what if he is there, we'll have fun again. It &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; like she had a crush on him, right? So she went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lindsay pulled into the driveway but there really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;weren't&lt;/span&gt; many people there. She went inside and everybody was leaving. So just as she got ready to leave Caitlin said hey why &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; we just stay here and play cards or watch a movie? Lindsay said yeah just what I want to do sit around like the third wheel all night. Then Caitlin said well Scott is staying too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That changed things. It changed a lot of things. What was this a date? A date with Scott? No way, it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; be. Could it? Lindsay started to get nervous again but before she could she was having fun. Then she was holding Scott's hand. Then she was planning when they could get together again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One year later she was planning their Wedding. It seems that they were just meant to be. I believe that God kept putting us in the same place in the same times but we had other plans. Plans that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; work because they were our plans and not Gods. Turns out he knows what hes doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moral of the story is you can't plan love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also my heart goes out to young people out there who have had their heart broken. Its very real and the fact that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;you're&lt;/span&gt; young &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; make it any less real. If you have been in pain because of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;relationship&lt;/span&gt; keep you head up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never know who you are meant to be with and you never know when they might show up. Scott was there my whole life but I never saw him the way I see him now. So open your eyes and take a look around, try not to look past the guy/gal that has been there all along! try not to look past your friends, God gave them to you for a reason!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So although this is my absolute favorite story I would love to hear yours..... come on its fun to write it! Also if you have a broken heart I would love to give you more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;encouragement&lt;/span&gt;, who knows maybe i know how you feel. Maybe you were meant to read this blog right now this very second so that we can be friends........ maybe, maybe, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;maybe&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-9209209018017462641?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/9209209018017462641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=9209209018017462641' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/9209209018017462641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/9209209018017462641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/07/me-and-you.html' title='Me and You'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/Rq31PgrUpJI/AAAAAAAAAD8/UGJa7rw6vwc/s72-c/s188300131_30051425_565.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-6456580948711691215</id><published>2007-07-27T05:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T07:22:44.728-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dear God Letters'/><title type='text'>Guilt Free</title><content type='html'>So I have been writing about all the many gifts God has blessed me with. I plan to periodically make post of thanks. Today I just want to write about what has been on my mind recently. I am trying to get right with God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love music but sometimes I prefer to hear conversation so I listen to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;VCY&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;America&lt;/span&gt; on my radio. Its a Christian station. Yesterday they were talking about the feeling of guilt. A feeling that I have to admit I feel often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This preacher said that there is no need to feel guilt. Guilt comes from Satan. He said what we must do is pinpoint what we are feeling guilty about. That gets tricky &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; it can go as far back to your childhood. When you do figure out what you feeling of guilt is stemming from all you have to do is talk to God about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take me for example I feel guilt because &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not going to Church on a regular basis. So all I need to do is say " God &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sorry I have not been going to Church. Please forgive me." Then GO. The Bible says that God will not bring up the things you have done wrong after you have asked for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;forgiveness&lt;/span&gt;, Satan does that. The only time God might bring something up is to show you have much he has loved you, not to make you feel bad about yourself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I have been waiting around on my husband to go with me. We have a way of letting worldly matters take the place of going to Church. Mowing, cleaning, painting and so on. Starting this Sunday I go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;no matter&lt;/span&gt; what. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know why it is so hard for me to go by myself but it is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the ultimate people &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;pleaser&lt;/span&gt;. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; like it and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know why I am always looking for approval, but I am. So I ask that God help me to want to please him instead of people who I will never be able to please! That I can find confidence in him to not feel pressured by peers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been reading aloud to my husband at night from the Message ( the Bible in today's lingo). We are almost through Luke. Last night I read that you can ask God for anything that you need. I really like the example that Luke gives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you child ask you for something to eat would you give him a snake? If you daughter ask you for something to eat would you give her a spider? Just as you would not do these things to your child God will not do these things to you. God who created you and your child loves you more than you can understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God wants to give us the things that we need because we are his children. I do not have children but I know that my parents would give me the world if they could. Imagine how much more God can give and wants to give. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not saying to ask for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ridiculous&lt;/span&gt; things. What &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; saying is to be direct with God when asking for the things that you need and I think God will be direct with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there anything that you're feeling guilty about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there anything you want to ask God for?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-6456580948711691215?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/6456580948711691215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=6456580948711691215' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/6456580948711691215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/6456580948711691215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/07/guilt-free.html' title='Guilt Free'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-6269190219345445768</id><published>2007-07-09T12:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T13:30:08.819-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanks'/><title type='text'>Best Sisters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RpKUWzCnjqI/AAAAAAAAACk/VG5RxZY5SIc/s1600-h/DSC00722.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085290048633933474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RpKUWzCnjqI/AAAAAAAAACk/VG5RxZY5SIc/s320/DSC00722.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Four more blessings in my life! Heather, Joe, Gwen, and Grant I love you guys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For many years I have called Heather my "best sister". Now my other two sisters they are the best too, but Heather and I spent a few years being very close. Most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;likely&lt;/span&gt; because she was my idle and we just get along great. I think we have the same humor and having someone to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;laugh&lt;/span&gt; with is the best gift ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Heather and Joe started dating life was great because I finally got a brother!I also gained another person to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;laugh&lt;/span&gt; with, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; think that Joe and I ever really know what were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;laughing&lt;/span&gt; about but somehow when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; with him everything becomes funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather and Joe have blessed me and this world with two precious babes!  I cannot believe how much I love them!  Heather and I talk about how sometimes you can love somebody so much it makes you cry and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; the truth! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day we had a birthday party for my mom and I was talking about all my worries and Heather said "why &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; you just quit worrying"w/ no compassion for my obviously &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;mediocre&lt;/span&gt; problem.  She always knows how to put me in my place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; care to sugar coat things she just tells it like it is.  There have been times that this ticked me off but truly she is the one person I can go to and know that I will &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;receive&lt;/span&gt; honesty and I know that its &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; she loves me.  There is much to be said about tough lovers and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; my Heather!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have shared so many good times.  Back when Heather first started driving we ruled our small town together and even though she was 4 years older than me she included me in her coolness, I always felt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;privileged&lt;/span&gt;!  I always wanted to be just like her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is the reason that I stole her clothes,  make-up, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;jewelry&lt;/span&gt;, shoes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Cd's&lt;/span&gt;, and much more.  Hopefully now that were older Heather can see that I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; trying to be a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;thief.&lt;/span&gt; I was trying to be as cool and gorgeous as she is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess these days not much has changed.  I still wear her clothes when shes done with them.  I still think shes pretty hip for a mom. Most of all I think that she is a gorgeous person inside &amp; out.  I pray that one day I grow up to be just like her!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-6269190219345445768?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/6269190219345445768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=6269190219345445768' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/6269190219345445768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/6269190219345445768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/07/best-sisters.html' title='Best Sisters'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RpKUWzCnjqI/AAAAAAAAACk/VG5RxZY5SIc/s72-c/DSC00722.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-6030686727087472714</id><published>2007-06-26T08:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-26T09:34:38.535-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanks'/><title type='text'>The Baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RoEwLrljQ7I/AAAAAAAAACU/4Eb1Rrh_2uM/s1600-h/DSC00063.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080394831887549362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RoEwLrljQ7I/AAAAAAAAACU/4Eb1Rrh_2uM/s320/DSC00063.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my beautiful sister Caitlin Marie. Caitlin and I are like PB &amp;amp; J, always have been. I remember when she was born, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; wait to take her home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This baby will soon be having a baby girl. I know she will be the best Mama. Even though &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; the "big" sis Cait takes care of me too. I can talk to her about everything, often with no words she always understands me. Nobody here wants to play a game of pictionary with us because we can have a full conversation with one look!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have always been a team, remember these plays?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Its Cool whip time baby.&lt;br /&gt;* Cell Phone video Dance&lt;br /&gt;* O &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Mexico&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The finger slight bent feeling, almost but, hard to explain&lt;br /&gt;* So much shells and cheese&lt;br /&gt;* Front seat no recalls comments it&lt;br /&gt;* RHS girl pictures, big noses, big smiles ( thank God we switched schools! LOL )&lt;br /&gt;* Hey lay on my back on the couch&lt;br /&gt;* The little man&lt;br /&gt;* I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; want to see those whites&lt;br /&gt;* Tickle game&lt;br /&gt;* Senior Pics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is just a few. I know that nobody understands anything I just wrote but I guess &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; the point. Caitlin and I share what nobody could ever understand but us, and I love that, I love her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One little story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cait and I shared a room for many many years. We had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;separate&lt;/span&gt; beds but Cait always ended up in mine by morning. Finally we got our own rooms when our big sisters moved out! Caitlin still ended up in my bed by morning. I would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;complain&lt;/span&gt; about it. Now I miss it more than anything! To tell you the truth it never bothered me! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; thankful for these memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catie Baby has helped make me the person that I am, and I am so proud of the woman she has become!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you God for my sister! Another perfect creation, God is awesome!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-6030686727087472714?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/6030686727087472714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=6030686727087472714' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/6030686727087472714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/6030686727087472714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/06/baby.html' title='The Baby'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RoEwLrljQ7I/AAAAAAAAACU/4Eb1Rrh_2uM/s72-c/DSC00063.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-5311995604124089213</id><published>2007-06-22T06:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T11:59:18.234-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Sis, Mama, Friend...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnvUlbljQ5I/AAAAAAAAACE/59wfVdiQFr0/s1600-h/mandy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078886744315872146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnvUlbljQ5I/AAAAAAAAACE/59wfVdiQFr0/s320/mandy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In my last post I wrote of my husband. I told you a few of the many reasons I am so in love with him. I labeled the post under "Thanks". One post is not nearly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;enough&lt;/span&gt; to cover the many reasons that I have to be thankful! I will be focusing my next few post on the reasons I have to be thankful and the many blessings the Lord has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;given&lt;/span&gt; to 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;When my last day is here I want to have lived a life of thanks. Although I will never complete this task, I want to give my best effort to tell you and most important my Lord that I am thankful for what he has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;given&lt;/span&gt; me, for he has made me so rich in love!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today, well for the past few days I have been thinking of my eldest sister. Thursday 6/21/07 8:52 am Mandy gave birth to her second baby girl. Ava Marie is 7lbs 15oz. I cant wait to go see her! I give thanks for another beautiful girl, what a precious gift! These girls are not the only gifts that I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;received&lt;/span&gt; from Amanda.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I cant remember one fight with Mandy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;growing&lt;/span&gt; up. She has always been kind and soft spoken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;given&lt;/span&gt; me some of the greatest memories. Like sitting on our back porch while she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;played&lt;/span&gt; her guitar and my younger sister and I sang along to Black Bird and Bobby McGee. She even took the time to teach us a little on the guitar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have always enjoyed singing. I thank Mandy for encouraging me to do so. Mandy has always encouraged me in all aspects of my life. She has always made me feel like she believed in 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;Mandy may be one of the few people who really understand me. I can always be myself with her. I can't count the hours that we spend on the phone. I am thankful for her friendship. I can tell her all my crazy ideas, and she tells me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not crazy :).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;adolescent&lt;/span&gt; she would come home with her high school friends. how I looked up to them ( Nikkie, Lori, Dave, Bro) , mostly her. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; sure at times she wished her annoying little sister would bug off, but she never said so. She always treated me as her equal. She made me feel like my thoughts were important. She never downplayed my childhood worries. I know she is a wonderful mother because of these traits.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I followed Mandy around because I just wanted to be with her. She showed me love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She has taught me many things:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*to love coffee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to love wine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to love books&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to love nature&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;conversation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to speak my mind&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to dream&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to live those dreams&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to stand up for myself&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to be proud&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* to be humble&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could go on and on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My sister Mandy is a blessing in my life. I love her dearly. I feel closer to her now that she is 8 hours away than I did when she was living right down the hall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thank God for his creation and perfection. For the gift of my Hippie Sister Mandy. I love her more than words can say!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-5311995604124089213?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/5311995604124089213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=5311995604124089213' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/5311995604124089213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/5311995604124089213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/06/big-sis-mama-friend.html' title='Big Sis, Mama, Friend...'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnvUlbljQ5I/AAAAAAAAACE/59wfVdiQFr0/s72-c/mandy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-8864514241457808307</id><published>2007-06-19T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T09:23:13.588-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thanks'/><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/Rnf6ZLljQrI/AAAAAAAAAAY/RXnce9vZQbs/s1600-h/l&amp;S.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077802415397487282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 197px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="127" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/Rnf6ZLljQrI/AAAAAAAAAAY/RXnce9vZQbs/s320/l%26S.jpg" width="196" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We had a blast at the Kenny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Chesney&lt;/span&gt; concert! I never get to go to concerts so this was really a treat! The music was fun and I had a great time with all my friends! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; so blessed to have such wonderful people in my life!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I also want to take the time to say thanks to God for my husband who is my very best friend. We almost have one year under our belt and we couldn't be happier together! Many times I forget how blessed I am, I forget that not everyone has the gifts that I have been given. So thank you so much God for giving me someone to share my life with that I love so dearly! I pray that I can be a good wife to him, and that we have lots of babies :) soon I hope I hope!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I love my husband for many reasons. My husband takes care of me, he knows how to make me laugh, he knows when I need him to treat me like one of the guys, he knows when to treat me like a lady, he knows when I need to talk, he knows when I need him to quit talking :), more than anything he is my friend, through thick and thin. He knows what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; good at and he knows what I suck at and he loves me for both. My weakness our his strengths, he makes me a better person.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;He is kind,stern, stubborn, sweet, funny, hard working, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;lovie&lt;/span&gt;, clever, he can fix anything, he thinks of others, and he loves me for me. What more could I ask for?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I will refer to this post when we have an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt;. The times I need to be reminded why I married this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;man&lt;/span&gt; in the first place! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Why do you love the people in your life? There are many people that I could tell you about and I will in post to come. Please tell me of those you love. I like love stories! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-8864514241457808307?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/8864514241457808307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=8864514241457808307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/8864514241457808307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/8864514241457808307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/06/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/Rnf6ZLljQrI/AAAAAAAAAAY/RXnce9vZQbs/s72-c/l%26S.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-7874565286650373482</id><published>2007-06-13T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T11:26:34.202-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marriage'/><title type='text'>Peace of Mind</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrClbljQyI/AAAAAAAAABM/BgE_y9pziEE/s1600-h/DSC00917.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078585478129861410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrClbljQyI/AAAAAAAAABM/BgE_y9pziEE/s400/DSC00917.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday my husband and I got into a bit of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt;. I in a mess of tears find myself feeling a little selfish. Here I sit crying over a grill ( long story ) and I think of all the greater problems then my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;argument&lt;/span&gt; I think each person is looking to be the "right" one. I think to myself do I really need to be "right"? Is being the "right" one worth this fight? Is this fight worth anything? How can I stop this fight when I think that I am the "right" one without making my husband say that I am the "right" one? Do I need him to tell me that, or do I just want to win? How can I control this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;behavior&lt;/span&gt; when I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;realize&lt;/span&gt; it until there is already a fight?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had the answers to these questions that ramble in my mind, but I do not. I think that no matter what book I read, what friend I go to for advise, or what journal entry I make I will not find the answers. What I can do is pray to God for peace of mind and know in my heart that God loves me and that one day the troubles of this world big or small, selfish or not will be taken away from me if I follow him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This world, better my life is a struggle for control. I know that when I say God I cannot handle this, he will handle it. It's a matter of letting go and letting God take control, I pray right now that I can become better at letting God lead my life instead of myself. I pray that I will not be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Luke&lt;/span&gt; warm for God. It is so much worse to know what is right and not do it than it is to do wrong and not know the difference. When you know what is right it takes strength and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;discipline&lt;/span&gt;. I am weak in these qualities but God is strong so I pray he will take over for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I feel it, peace of mind. Thank you God!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-7874565286650373482?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/7874565286650373482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=7874565286650373482' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/7874565286650373482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/7874565286650373482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/06/ask-and-you-shall-revieve.html' title='Peace of Mind'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrClbljQyI/AAAAAAAAABM/BgE_y9pziEE/s72-c/DSC00917.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-8507543140819939498</id><published>2007-06-08T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T09:43:16.511-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pets'/><title type='text'>Shock Therapy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlVPLljQsI/AAAAAAAAAAg/d4Sjvdb-zY0/s1600-h/DSC00645.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078183774133633730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="272" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlVPLljQsI/AAAAAAAAAAg/d4Sjvdb-zY0/s400/DSC00645.JPG" width="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my baby Cujo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody tell me that I'm doing the right thing by installing an electric &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fence&lt;/span&gt; for my babies (aka my doggies). I feel horrible! We move our pups from a 300 acre farm to a .87 acre yard and now were gonna &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;electrocute&lt;/span&gt; them!? What kind of mom does that? I just need someone to tell me that it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; hurt. Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know what I have to do. I will wear the device and have my hubby lay a pizza in the neighbors yard. Then maybe I will know the feeling of longing to run with the wind and being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;confined&lt;/span&gt; with a zap! It just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; seem right. Then again my babes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;squashed&lt;/span&gt; on the road &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; seem like the better alternitive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-8507543140819939498?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/8507543140819939498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=8507543140819939498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/8507543140819939498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/8507543140819939498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/06/shock-therapy.html' title='Shock Therapy'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlVPLljQsI/AAAAAAAAAAg/d4Sjvdb-zY0/s72-c/DSC00645.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-1643313622341960029</id><published>2007-05-22T05:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T11:32:11.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear Abby</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrD4bljQzI/AAAAAAAAABU/rcoHBtRu9zI/s1600-h/DSC00612.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078586904059003698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrD4bljQzI/AAAAAAAAABU/rcoHBtRu9zI/s400/DSC00612.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Hello all! I read this article today and it stirred a bit of emotion in me so I thought I would share. I e-mailed Abby my thoughts as well and I explained to her that I do not think college is bad it is AWESOME, however it is a choice and is not the right choice for everyone, like me for example and I will tell you why. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;I have put my responses in red, I hope you enjoy this and please comment on your thoughts!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAR ABBY: My girlfriend and I have been living together for two years and are starting to talk about marriage.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(This is a good thing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; She is kind and considerate, and we love each other.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt; (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Aww&lt;/span&gt; that is the most important thing)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; The only problem is, I have a college degree and she has only a high school diploma.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(So, let me get this you love her but she isn't as smart as you?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I always imagined that I'd marry a college-educated person, but she has no desire to attend college or to get any other type of schooling, either. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(What is wrong with her! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm worried, Abby, because I'm afraid that we won't have a secure financial future because of her limited education.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Maybe if $ is you biggest concern you should get your Masters)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; I want to provide a good life for our future children.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(So you love her now and you want to have children with her but she can't offer you the money you want?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Should I ignore my concerns?&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(No)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Or should I depart from this relationship? &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;( I say depart if you think that money can buy a good life, for yourself or your kids. There are ways to get by, you do not have to be rich in money to be rich in love!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;-- LOOKING TWICE IN IDAHO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DEAR LOOKING TWICE: Your concerns should certainly not be ignored. However, your last question is one only you can answer.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Okay I'm in agreement.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since we're on the subject of "questions," I have a few more for you: Although a college degree is not the end-all and be-all in determining success,&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;( yes)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; is this young woman at all ambitious?&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Hold up, ambition and college are two different things. How many people do you know that are in college but have no ambition? I know a ton!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Is she willing to expand her career options, or does she plan to be a housewife and stay-at-home mother?&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;( And if she did want to be a housewife and stay at home mother would that make her ambitious? I think so b/c it is more difficult to control your spending and lifestyle in order for a mother to stay at home.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and your girlfriend could benefit from premarital counseling.&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;(Yeah)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; After that, you will both have a clearer picture of what your future together will hold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Not much if you keep judging her for not choosing college! Again I think that college is great for the right people but it does not make you rich, it does not make you successful, it does not make you anything really. You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;determine&lt;/span&gt; your own success, you and God. You can create that in so many different ways, not just through college!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Personally I don't like school. It is very difficult for me, I don't enjoy it, and I don't have the desire to go! Why would I spend 30,000.00 on something I don't care about? I can work maybe I won't rake in the big bucks but I don't need them. We have everything we need, food, shelter, love, and God. So I am content is that so wrong?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Please I would like to hear your take!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-1643313622341960029?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/1643313622341960029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=1643313622341960029' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/1643313622341960029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/1643313622341960029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/05/dear-abby.html' title='Dear Abby'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrD4bljQzI/AAAAAAAAABU/rcoHBtRu9zI/s72-c/DSC00612.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-6800414453268882103</id><published>2007-05-07T08:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T09:34:00.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mrs. Natural ( well I'm working on it)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlW6LljQtI/AAAAAAAAAAo/HagXbNXlpQ8/s1600-h/DSC00630.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078185612379636434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlW6LljQtI/AAAAAAAAAAo/HagXbNXlpQ8/s400/DSC00630.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Woo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hoo&lt;/span&gt; I found a local Natural Food Store! Sweet Meadows Farm Market. It is really cute inside. The only thing is I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know what to buy! It's awful that I'm so used to having stores that guide all my buys that I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know how to think for myself! So I'm doing a little research on what I need. I want to start with the basics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first local purchase was milk and root beer. The milk is from a local dairy farm in a glass bottle that you bring back when you're done to refill, I love it.. I even took pictures he he. The root beer was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;soooooooo&lt;/span&gt; good. Were weening off the pop. We drink a lot of tea in the summer time so its not too bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited for this weekend because my husband is going to help me with my garden. I think were going to plant sweet corn, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;broccoli&lt;/span&gt;, green peppers, tomatoes, green beans, watermelons, and strawberries. I plan to do some canning so that we will be set for the winter. Hopefully I can learn to make jelly too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to hear your gardening tips or shopping ideas!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-6800414453268882103?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/6800414453268882103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/6800414453268882103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/05/mrs-natural-well-im-working-on-it.html' title='Mrs. Natural ( well I&apos;m working on it)'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlW6LljQtI/AAAAAAAAAAo/HagXbNXlpQ8/s72-c/DSC00630.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-1104981201333091297</id><published>2007-05-04T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T11:36:41.210-07:00</updated><title type='text'>About $</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrE87ljQ0I/AAAAAAAAABc/ZBY0F8ZvL2o/s1600-h/DSC00149.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078588080880042818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrE87ljQ0I/AAAAAAAAABc/ZBY0F8ZvL2o/s400/DSC00149.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I think about money the first emotion that I feel is frustration. I do not like needing it and honestly I'm not the best at handling it. In the past few months I have made a few minor changes that really help me in my spending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. No Debit Card&lt;br /&gt;2. Duplicate checks&lt;br /&gt;3.No credit cards&lt;br /&gt;4.Carry little cash&lt;br /&gt;5.Direct Deposit&lt;br /&gt;6.Make shopping list&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not making a huge savings off this plan, however I'm chasing my bills instead of them chasing after me. Dept free is obviously the ultimate goal. Were in the process of buying our 1st home so I suppose it will take around &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ugh&lt;/span&gt; 30 yrs to meet my ultimate goal, but long term goals are the best ones :).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you seen the credit card commercial where the guy is in a mall or food court and he pays with cash and the whole place comes to a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;halt&lt;/span&gt;? He slows everything down. I think the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;advertisement&lt;/span&gt; even states something along the lines of not letting money slow you down. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; quote me on that but its something like that, you get my drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my opinion that is exactly what we need to do. Slow down that is. This country is all about the impulse sales. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; a sucker and I know it so if i take away my debit card and credit cards I have to stop and think about what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; spending. In most cases I would actually have to go to the bank and get my money (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt; thats so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;inconvenient&lt;/span&gt;!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The duplicate checks just help me keep track of what I am buying. I'm not very good at writing down everything so this leaves a trail for me. All plastic payment options are stupid. The company behind that card is going to make its money off of you somehow so chop em up! Ill be the first to admit if its in my wallet and I want something bad enough I will give into my temptation, so I take the temptation away. ( We can use this in other areas of life :) as well! )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Baby steps is my motto. My oldest sister Mandy and I are trying*** not to buy new. I like this idea way much. It is challening and I deffinatly dont always follow the rules but I am doing better everyday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you do to stash your cash?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-1104981201333091297?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/1104981201333091297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=1104981201333091297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/1104981201333091297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/1104981201333091297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/05/about.html' title='About $'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrE87ljQ0I/AAAAAAAAABc/ZBY0F8ZvL2o/s72-c/DSC00149.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-3980674248482096523</id><published>2007-05-02T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-21T11:45:55.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get Functional</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrGM7ljQ1I/AAAAAAAAABk/nIQ7_A6GvgA/s1600-h/DSC00932.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078589455269577554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrGM7ljQ1I/AAAAAAAAABk/nIQ7_A6GvgA/s400/DSC00932.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;As you may know I work at a fitness club. Nautilus and Body &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jetics&lt;/span&gt; 24/7 Fitness. I love it! I love helping people meet their goals, its awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Functional Fitness is my favorite. Its for people of all fitness levels. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Functional&lt;/span&gt; fitness is great because it will help you in your everyday task. When you lift weight at the gym or in your home you concentrate using one muscle at a time. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Functional&lt;/span&gt; Fitness is using different muscles together. For example when you are grocery shopping you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; grab a can of beans off the bottom shelf and curl it 10 times. You do squat down turn stand up and place the can in your cart ( yes this is exercise!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wouldn't it be more useful to exercise muscles that help you in your everyday duties!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to use a 7-9 lb &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Medicine&lt;/span&gt; Ball. You can use anything really a heavy book is an idea or even two cans of bean. Whatever you can find around the house will work. I find its easier for me when using one object with both hands on it. Its easier to balance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple exercises to try:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*hint* keep your eyes on the book, it will force you to move with the book, using more muscles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The wood chop: Stand with your book above your head. Arms fully extended, legs a little more than shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent. Bend from the waist and swing the book between your legs then right back to the start &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;position&lt;/span&gt;. I do 3 set of 12.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The side chop: Standing the same way hold your book straight in front of your chest, come down between your legs, back to start &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;position&lt;/span&gt; then turn as far as you can to your left side repeat motion 3x12 then do the same to your right side. (Arms stay at chest level not above the head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just two but give it a try! Let me know if you hurt in a good way the next day!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-3980674248482096523?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/3980674248482096523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=3980674248482096523' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/3980674248482096523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/3980674248482096523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/05/get-functional.html' title='Get Functional'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnrGM7ljQ1I/AAAAAAAAABk/nIQ7_A6GvgA/s72-c/DSC00932.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-2101344117195687762</id><published>2007-05-02T06:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T18:50:32.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To live for today or tomorrow?</title><content type='html'>"Its only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth- and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up- that we will begin to live each day to the fullest as if it was the only one we had."&lt;br /&gt;- Elisabeth &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kubler&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-Ross&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I am reading Chicken Soup for the Couples Soul. I love these books :). They give you that warm fuzzy feeling! This caught my eye and got me thinking (scary I know). It's difficult to think about death. Last week a girl that I know from High School (an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;acquaintance&lt;/span&gt; not a close friend but I talked to her nearly everyday for 3 years) was killed. A horrible accident. Carly wrecked her car, while walking to find help she was hit by a 19 yr old paper boy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;She was so kind. I remember the way she talked. She had a beautiful smile. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; am sure this is much more difficult for her family and close friends to handle. I pray that Carly is in happy in Heaven today. Such a tragic death, makes me wonder why? Why do these things happen? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;A few months ago I was driving listening to the radio. It was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;announced&lt;/span&gt; that a teenage girl and her grandmother slid on a patch of ice, the car went in to the river, men jumped in after them. They could see them banging on the windows and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; help them. Sorry if I'm depressing you but it's a part of life. This accident made me sick. When I came home from work I found out that the teenage girl was my husband's cousin's best friend. Now it wasn't just a story on the radio, it was real because it touched the life of someone I am close to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I got so upset. My mom is a Hospice nurse. When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; trying to understand death she can &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;usually&lt;/span&gt; calm me down. She did help me to understand that death happens. It's going to happen to her some day, it's going to happen to you, and yes it's even going to happen to me! I still didn't hear what I needed to, believe it or not my mom doesn't have all the answers, but I know somebody who does.... So I open my Bible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I'm reading my Bible to my hubby every night from front to back. I opened it and picked up where I left off the night before. God cleared things up. It was talking about when the apostles just found out that Jesus was going to be killed. They were so upset, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;inconsolable&lt;/span&gt;. Jesus told them do not question acts of God. You have no idea what God's plan is. We must accept that God has a plan and it's not for us to understand, but one day it will show all its perfection.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; thinking maybe when I die God will pull out his blue prints. Maybe he will say remember when Carly died, or remember when things &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; go your way? Well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;here's&lt;/span&gt; what I was doing. I will say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ohhhhhhhhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; okay now I get it...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;! I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; know if it will work out just this way. I do believe that when I do pass to the other side (hoping that I get where I want to go) there will be relief to all the worries and questions I have. I guess &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; the beauty of Faith!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We do not know the hour. I am trying to live the best that I can for today for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;tomorrow&lt;/span&gt; b/c what I do today &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;determines&lt;/span&gt; where Ill be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tomarrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. Hope that my babbling makes sense!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;holla&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; back with your thoughts!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-2101344117195687762?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/2101344117195687762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=2101344117195687762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/2101344117195687762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/2101344117195687762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/05/to-live-for-today-or-tomarrow.html' title='To live for today or tomorrow?'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-5751415063183824750</id><published>2007-05-01T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T08:36:40.457-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Walk Slowly, Live Wildly: Transforming</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://walkslowlylivewildly.blogspot.com/2007/04/transforming.html"&gt;Walk Slowly, Live Wildly: Transforming&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-5751415063183824750?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://walkslowlylivewildly.blogspot.com/2007/04/transforming.html' title='Walk Slowly, Live Wildly: Transforming'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/5751415063183824750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=5751415063183824750' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/5751415063183824750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/5751415063183824750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/05/walk-slowly-live-wildly-transforming.html' title='Walk Slowly, Live Wildly: Transforming'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-7187569111986084266</id><published>2007-05-01T06:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T06:35:31.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Hard</title><content type='html'>So Ive set a few goal for myself recently.  My first goal is to get up early in the morning.  When I say early I mean early &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;enough&lt;/span&gt; to pack my husbands lunch, eat breakfast together, and still have time to get ready for work myself without rushing.  This is hard for me because I love sleepy! Today I woke at about 5:20 my goal was 5:00 but hey I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;usually&lt;/span&gt; don't roll out of bed until 6:45 so its a start!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; also trying to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;uhhh&lt;/span&gt; lets say invest my marriage.  I have a great marriage but I would like to invest more time in our future.  Everybody keeps telling me that were still on the honeymoon which is a little scary because it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; always feel like a honeymoon!  I think going to Church together is the best way to start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I attended a Catholic school and grew up in a Catholic family.  As we grew older my grandmother passed away and my mom could hardly go to Church because it reminds her of her mother.  Its been 8 or more years sense my Grandma passed away. My mom goes to Church ones in a blue moon. I am trying to make Church a priority for my husband and I.  I was talking to my mom yesterday and told here we were going to try a Non-Denominational Church closer to where we live and she was so upset with me.  I know this is because I was raised Catholic and that is where she wants me to attend Church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Don't&lt;/span&gt; worry &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; going somewhere with this story.  Last night I got upset because I thought that I was doing something positive by being sure that we keep God in our lives and I got negative reactions.  I laid down and read my Bible and what I read said &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; try to please anybody but God, and that will please God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; am sure that my mom wants God in my life, she isn't upset because she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; want me to have a strong faith but it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; matter. Obstacles that prevent you from getting close to God could present themselves in very different ways. So as much as I love my mama and value her I have to get my God in the way that works for me. So Catholics, Jews, Muslims, whoever you are if God speaks to you take it where ever you can get it.  God said Hey &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Zay&lt;/span&gt; I know this nice Church just down the street from you, try it out, so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; going to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its hard when your families beliefs conflict with your own!  Id love to hear your thoughts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-7187569111986084266?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/7187569111986084266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=7187569111986084266' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/7187569111986084266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/7187569111986084266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/05/its-hard.html' title='Its Hard'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-2883646172671905366</id><published>2007-04-19T06:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T09:44:03.092-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Young</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlYSLljQuI/AAAAAAAAAAw/dtt_VDlG8Ms/s1600-h/DSC00294.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078187124208124642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlYSLljQuI/AAAAAAAAAAw/dtt_VDlG8Ms/s400/DSC00294.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It never ceases to amaze me. Almost every time that a somebody takes notice to my wedding ring the first thing they say is "How old are you?". When I respond with 23 I get a "You're too young to be married". To top it off they usually will express some sense of sorrow for me. I cant recall one time where somebody has said " That's wonderful!", or "Congratulations". I find it very rude. I don't understand how friends or even worse strangers feel that they know better than I my readiness for marriage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel that everybody has the right to there own opinion, however it seems to me that society's view of marriage is well, screwed up! People treat me like I'm headed for a funeral, its very sad to me. I couldn't be happier in my marriage. My husband and I are young and we are growing together. Isn't that what its all about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a little sister that's 18 yrs old. &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;KK&lt;/span&gt; is five months pregnant. Maybe she is young and maybe it isn't the best timing but I find peoples reactions horrible! Never would I express regret at the promise of new life. I believe that new life is our greatest blessing! Imagine you are pregnant ( this may be difficult guys) and young. KK is nervous this is all so new. She needs support and encouragement, instead she gets apologies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of our parents and grandparent were 18 or younger. Back in my grandparents day it was common for people to marry at 16 yrs of age in many cases is was encouraged. Are we all so independent now in days that we need nobody but ourselves? I don't think ever body should marry at a young age but if you feel ready what other sign do you need? There are no guarantees in life but if we lose faith in these things we are surly doomed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our great Country we are so blessed with freedom and opportunity, but is there any limits? Are limits always bad? High school children in choosing a mate , school, or career are consistently told "Explore your options,try everything, never settle". Never settle? Never settle for what? Anything less than perfection? Perfection is a myth. Non &lt;span style="color:#ffff00;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;existent&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;in this world. Unattainable goals are ridiculous. We have to expect people/life for its &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;strengths&lt;/span&gt; and weakness. For all good and bad qualities and a search for the perfect person is a lost cause. Maybe we should incorporate a little compassion into our lives. Trying to be perfect tires those trying,and those with the expectations of perfection in others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch my grade school friends. Off living the "dream"in college. Sleeping around with different people, you know trying to find the perfect one, continuously breaking there own hearts, with the desire for finding that perfect person and infinitely failing. I have to chuckle at times when they express there sorrow for me and my simple life. I am satisfied. They are forever searching for unattainable dreams of perfection. Where as I am happy with my Husband and friend who is not perfect but supports me in imperfect times. Maybe were not so wordily but we know love, patience, and kindness. I wonder how much the "dream" college life teaches of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not downing College. Knowledge is power however the lifestyle that it predominately promotes is reckless and at times life threatening. My dearest friend nearly killed herself with alcohol literally she spent days in the hospital because of it, we almost lost her. That reality check woke her up, others don't wake up,ever. Yet if a person is driven to become a Doctor or whatever that's awesome. They do not have to choose that reckless lifestyle,though it seems very difficult to overcome. At such a impressionable age its hard not to do what everybody else is doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask for your veiws on young marrages and any response to my feelings!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-2883646172671905366?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/2883646172671905366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=2883646172671905366' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/2883646172671905366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/2883646172671905366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/04/young.html' title='Young'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/RnlYSLljQuI/AAAAAAAAAAw/dtt_VDlG8Ms/s72-c/DSC00294.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-394900583380881598.post-1017446393711984976</id><published>2007-04-16T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-16T08:16:30.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Try</title><content type='html'>Okay here is my first blog!  I suppose I should tell you a little about myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a female.  I am 23 years old, my birthday is March 25.  I am very happily married to my very best friend Scottie.  I work for a lumber company and A fitness club.  I have three sisters, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;je&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;na&lt;/span&gt; pa &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;frere&lt;/span&gt;- &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; not the best speller.  I am a lover of animals.  I am a hunter. I am an artist, singer/painter. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have a favorite color...its so hard to pick!  I like to read when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; in the right mood.  I love my family very much. I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;defiantly&lt;/span&gt; a dreamer.  I have ADD and use it to my benefit, you should see me multi-task! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; also &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;LD&lt;/span&gt; = learns differently.  I am a Catholic/Christian.  I have a strong faith, and feel sad for those who &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt;, b/c &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; afraid I will never get to see them again! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;I'm&lt;/span&gt; a worry wort and carefree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it! This is me... today anyway!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/394900583380881598-1017446393711984976?l=zayannee.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/feeds/1017446393711984976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=394900583380881598&amp;postID=1017446393711984976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/1017446393711984976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/394900583380881598/posts/default/1017446393711984976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://zayannee.blogspot.com/2007/04/first-try.html' title='First Try'/><author><name>Zayannee</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07506531639315294422</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ntZFeXk71WE/TEhfMzxmd8I/AAAAAAAAAH8/DtRAoS-Jp6Q/S220/jul+13th+070.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
