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  <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies</id>
  <title>Momilies</title>
  <subtitle>Not Your Average Soccer Mom</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>momilies</name>
  </author>
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  <updated>2009-12-23T16:21:56Z</updated>
  <lj:journal userid="9066675" username="momilies" type="personal"/>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:322530</id>
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    <title>The Reason for the Season</title>
    <published>2009-12-23T16:21:56Z</published>
    <updated>2009-12-23T16:21:56Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Okay, I lied.  I have more to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many things I celebrate this time of year. I celebrate the happy, joyful, goodwill-infused spirit of the season. I revel in buying and wrapping presents, or making presents, as the case may be. I wallow in the tasty food and drink, making plenty of my own in addition to partaking of anything that passes by me as well. I find myself hugging my friends and family extra hard and extra long. I listen to Christmas carols and cry every time I hear Ave Maria no matter who sings it. I go to more than my fair share of parties and social gatherings and enjoy every single one of them more than I ever should.  My husband and I work as Santa and Mrs. Claus throughout the season, and I never get tired of his booming "Ho Ho Ho" nor the looks on kids' faces when they see him. I keep that legend alive in my own home, and we celebrate Christmas day with presents and presents and more presents, and then some ham and Brussels sprouts and cranberry sauce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do not, however, celebrate Jesus. I am not Christian, and that's fine, I have that choice (and right). I also have the choice (and right) to celebrate a secular and/or commercial Christmas. Christ is not the only reason for the season. He's one that some people celebrate. But he's not what everyone celebrates. There are many many many religious traditions and many more secular traditions that surround this time of year, and there is room on this big, wonderful planet for ALL of it. When a non-Christian chooses to say "happy holidays" instead of Merry Christmas, it is not a sleight, intended or otherwise, against Christians. It is recognition that the holidays are here, whatever people are choosing to celebrate, and that we wish you all the same good wishes you wish us (at least, we hope that's what you're doing when you tell us "Merry Christmas).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is enough room for everyone and everything. You can choose to celebrate this season (or not, as the case may be) in any way that you like. You do NOT have the right to give the rest of us grief for not celebrating the way you celebrate. I don't do that to you, please don't do that to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Holidays to EVERYONE. No exceptions. :)</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:322116</id>
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    <title>Whoosh!!</title>
    <published>2009-12-23T14:22:43Z</published>
    <updated>2009-12-23T14:22:43Z</updated>
    <content type="html">This year has flown by.  Don't we always say that?  Here it is December; it wasn't that long ago that I was trying to remember to write "2009" on correspondence.  Now I have to retrain myself to "2010" or worse yet, '10.  That one isn't coming very naturally at this point, but I have all next year to get it under control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my last day of work until January 4th.  The campus is dead as a doornail.  There is probably 25% or fewer of the staff here to keep things running.  When I logged into my email this morning, there was the usual message from the President's office telling us that we had to be out of the buildings by 4:30 p.m.  They always have this illusion that we must be open and operational until 5, but on that last day, they grant us a reprieve.  Whatever.  I will be out right after 4, as per usual.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Klown and I will do some last-minute stocking-stuffer shopping on the way home, then I can relax.  Actually, he's going to take Tater off to play somewhere tonight so I can wrap presents.  The Perfect Child is doing an overnight babysitting gig.  I have her quilt with me (the secret project I've been working on) so I can stitch on the binding today while it is quiet and there is nothing to do.  I will finish before bed tonight, I'm sure of that.  It will be the first time in a long time I'm not still madly working on something on Christmas eve.  It has turned out beautifully and I am happy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Christmas this year we aren't going to get snow.  We're going to get rain.  Lots and lots of rain.  It already started last night and they are predicting 2-4 inches of it in the next 48 hours.  The little creek we drive along to come to work was already showing signs of rising.  There is nowhere for the water to go, since the ground is frozen.  This could be really ugly for a whole lot of people in the next couple of days.  We will get some snow flurries/showers on Christmas day, but that will be about it.  I will be glad to be snug and warm in my house on a pile of rocks; no water problems for us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ready for Christmas except for the wrapping.  Klown and I have three gigs on Christmas eve, plus he has to work at the grocery store in the middle of the day.  Christmas eve will be necessarily lazy and slow, which is fine with me.  I'll do a big meal sometime during the afternoon, but other than that, not much but sitting and napping, I think.  We'll need it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy holidays, everyone.  I am not likely to post again until after Christmas.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:321832</id>
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    <title>Book the Twenty-Fifth, or, Lurching to a Stop</title>
    <published>2009-12-18T21:13:08Z</published>
    <updated>2009-12-18T21:13:08Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I just finished reading Laura Howard's &lt;i&gt;Ice&lt;/i&gt;.  I knew it was going to be bad when I read that the pickup truck "lurched to a stop" and then read dialog from a 7 year old that sounded like he was considerably older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished it anyway, as I can't count it unless I finish it, and at least I know who to avoid now.  Yikes.  Pretty awful writing, as if it were written by a teenager.  Full of cliches, curse words that was nothing but gratuitous, and a "terminator"-type feel to the villains (they couldn't seem to die).  Not only that, but the story is set in an ice storm in Maine that lasts about six hours.  Maine rarely gets ice storms, and a true ice storm lasts much more than six hours and does not manage to dump huge loads of ice in say, a half-hour, but that's the way the book was written.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, lack of proper research, terrible cliched writing, amongst other things, make me not want to read anything by her ever again.  She's on my "do not read" list.  Ick.</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:321767</id>
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    <title>December Reading</title>
    <published>2009-12-15T16:14:45Z</published>
    <updated>2009-12-15T16:14:45Z</updated>
    <content type="html">As Christmas gets closer, I start to stockpile books from my library for reading over the break.  I have three already, and that may be ambitious, considering I want to get some writing done over the break as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be that as it may, this is what I have:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Man Who Invented Christmas,&lt;/em&gt; by Les Standiford.  It is the story of how Charles Dickens' &lt;em&gt;A Christmas Carol&lt;/em&gt; rescued his career and revived our holiday spirits.  230 pages, from Crown Publishing, New York.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;We Never Talk About My Brother&lt;/em&gt;, by Peter S. Beagle.  This is a collection of short stories touted to be &amp;quot;a profound exploration of love, death, and transformation.&amp;quot;  219 pages, from Tachyon Publications, San Francisco.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;em&gt;Kissing the Witch&lt;/em&gt;, by Emma Donoghue.  The tag line is &amp;quot;Old Tales in New Skins.&amp;quot;  It is a retelling of the Snow White, Cinderella, and Rapunzel (among others) stories from the respective of the damsel in distress.  228 pages, Joanna Cotler Books (an imprint of HarperCollins.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Anyone have other books to recommend for my holiday break reading?</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:321427</id>
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    <title>As Requested - Classic Peanut Butter Cookies</title>
    <published>2009-12-14T15:29:09Z</published>
    <updated>2009-12-14T15:29:38Z</updated>
    <content type="html">These are perfect.  Buttery, melt-in-your mouth yet chewy.  I've been looking for the perfect recipe for years. This one is it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Classic Peanut Butter Cookies&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ingredients&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    * 2 sticks margarine or unsalted butter&lt;br /&gt;    * 1 cup creamy peanut butter&lt;br /&gt;    * 1 cup white sugar&lt;br /&gt;    * 1 cup packed light brown sugar&lt;br /&gt;    * 2 large eggs (don't cheat!)&lt;br /&gt;    * 1 teaspoon vanilla extract&lt;br /&gt;    * 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour&lt;br /&gt;    * 1 teaspoon baking powder&lt;br /&gt;    * 1/2 teaspoon salt&lt;br /&gt;    * 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Directions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   1. Cream together butter, peanut butter and sugars. Beat in eggs and vanilla until smooth.&lt;br /&gt;   2. In a separate bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Stir into batter. Put batter in refrigerator for 1 hour.&lt;br /&gt;   3. Scoop by spoonfuls onto on baking sheets (I use a small ice cream scooper). Flatten each ball slightly with a fork, making a criss-cross pattern. &lt;br /&gt;   4. Bake in a preheated 375 degrees F oven for about 10 minutes or until cookies begin to brown. DO NOT OVERBAKE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I used margarine, and real vanilla extract.  Watch these carefully, you do not want to overbake them.  Remember that the best cookie comes out of the oven not quite done; it finishes baking on the pan as you're putting them on the rack.&lt;/i&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:321124</id>
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    <title>Mrs. Claus is Pooped</title>
    <published>2009-12-14T04:38:54Z</published>
    <updated>2009-12-14T04:38:54Z</updated>
    <content type="html">We had a busy busy weekend.  It started before Friday even began, as we anticipated the arrival of a house guest.  &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.comedyvent.com"&gt;Ian Varella&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; has stayed with us before, twice I think.  He is a total hoot and absolutely no trouble at all, but as with any house guest, it is work for us to have someone here.  House has to be clean, air bed has to be drug out and made up, food to be prepared, etc.  And despite my best intentions of not having anything scheduled for Friday night, Klown went ahead and scheduled the Perfect Child to help out at Whittle Shortline Train Station, where he works two days a week.  They were having their family fun night, and needed one more person to help with the children's activities.  Of course, this meant that I had a ton of running around to do, leaving our house guest alone, and me not having the time to get things done that I'd planned to do Friday night to begin with.  Like getting my Mrs. Claus outfit out and de-wrinkled and combing out my wig, which has been in a box since last Christmas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, inspiration struck, and I called Stinky Boy.  Fortunately, he had nothing else to do, and he took both the girls and spent the evening with them at the train store.  I ordered pizza, worked on my costume, and half-watched Blades of Glory with Ian, and worked on a crocheted scarf I'm trying to finish for my son's girlfriend. before everyone came home.  So, mission accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday was a whirlwind, The Claus's and the Official Elf (aka, the Perfect Child) had a date with the local library, a gig we do for free every year.  This year they wanted us for all four hours, instead of just two.  So we packed up and got our butts there and had a wonderful time talking to all the children and adults, dancing to the Dulcimer music, eating cookies and candy canes, and cutting up with Ian, who &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/smkelmer"&gt;stopped by with two of his puppets for pictures with Santa and Mrs. Claus.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  I love this gig every year; we see the same kids each year, which is wonderful for them and for us.  But four hours on my feet on a concrete floor standing still is pretty much a knee-killer for me, not to mention the headache I get from wearing a wig for that long.  So, I came home and napped while Klown headed off to a second Santa gig, then got up and fixed dinner, and started laundry.  There was so much laundry piled up in the laundry room that I could not close the door.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday morning brought a renewal of activities.  Laundry recommenced, and Klown and I headed out to do some Christmas shopping.  This resulted in a lot of me standing around on concrete, as shopping with Klown is...well, it's a bit of an ordeal.  He can't make up his mind (damned Libra), and has to look at everything, not just the stuff that interests him.  We spent almost two hours in Target.  Ugh.  Then we went to Barnes and Noble, where I was ready to go in ten minutes, and he wasn't.  Got White Castles on the way home, and returned to laundry.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tonight, I made oatmeal cookies, chocolate chip cookies, and peanut butter cookies.  The last pan is in the oven, and it's almost 11 p.m., about an hour past my bedtime!  I'm pooped.  Hopefully work isn't too bad this week, although we are in finals and I expect the worst for the first three or four days.  Then it should lighten up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is still shopping to do, and more goodies to bake, and of course things to wrap, but we're coming along.  The Santa gigs are winding down, most people have booked already if they are going to, although we keep getting calls for Christmas eve evening.  We have been booked for that evening for two months, and when you tell people that, they are so surprised.  And NO of course they don't want a time other than the prime 6-9 p.m. time slot, even though we have nothing earlier, and nothing later, and could still make a visit.  I'm surprised, sometimes, at how inflexible people are when waiting until the last minute to book.  Their loss.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:320776</id>
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    <title>Put on a Sweater!</title>
    <published>2009-12-09T20:59:47Z</published>
    <updated>2009-12-09T20:59:47Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I must've been a polar bear in a former life.  That's all I can come up with.  Today started at 30 degrees and is moving north at a fast clip.  It is currently 19 degrees and should drop a bit more before dark, then crash after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I slept last night with the bedroom window open 8 inches and the ceiling fan on.  I was completely comfortable.  I'm sitting at work today in short sleeves.  Some people in my lab are still wearing their coats from being outside.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, on the other hand, am completely comfortable and ready for more of the same.  Everyone around me is complaining.  "It's cold!"  "Put on a sweater!" is my immediate response.  I love this weather.  I could use some sunshine and a little less blustery winds, but the cold is just fine.  Bring it on!  What better excuse to put on my snuggly socks, to layer the extra comforter on the bed, to enjoy hot drinks and soups?  Loving it!</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:320644</id>
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    <title>Annoyed</title>
    <published>2009-12-02T17:02:33Z</published>
    <updated>2009-12-02T17:02:33Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Idiot ex-husband has not paid child support in eight weeks.  After a month of no payment, I received a letter from the state saying they would be garnishing his wages.  So far, nothing has come through.  It is a slow, waiting game.  I should be thankful that he is employed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after so many years of this fight, so many years of the trouble and the hassle, and finally having something that should be enforceable (felony probation), nothing has changed.  He still owes more than $20K, an amount that grows significantly each month.  I think the amount now is around $24K.  At the rate he is (not) paying, we will be pushing $30K and beyond.  Ridiculous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What we could do with that kind of money.  What the kids could have had with that kind of money.  We survive with one car and a 16 year old itching to drive, but no way to let that happen because we can't afford the extra insurance a teacher costs.  We are not destitute, and I should probably not complain, but really, if the roles were reversed, do you think the Idiot Ex would be letting me walk all over him when it came to child support?  No, I'm sure he wouldn't be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This system is so broken, and I don't know the first thing about how to fix it, but let's start with ENFORCEMENT.  This is a felony, he's plead guilty to the felony, can we now just get to the ENFORCEMENT part?  The part where payment is not optional anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my mind, it should have never gotten this far.  When it reached four figures, that should have been the time to start enforcement.  Now that it's in the five figures?  I begin to lose hope.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am not alone.  This story has been repeated in tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of households across this country.  It is not fair to any of us.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:320278</id>
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    <title>Getting Old</title>
    <published>2009-11-29T17:24:36Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-29T17:24:36Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Something has happened over the last year.  I suppose it started happening a long time ago, but I've just now started noticing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My double chin has now developed a little supporting roll of something on my neck.  I've had a double chin all my life, no biggie.  But this little fat roll of flesh on my neck is new.  Or at least, new to me.  My mother has one.  I suppose my grandmother had one too.  There it is.  I can feel it when I go to scratch my neck.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there's that saggy thing.  I never was particularly saggy, for a fat woman.  But now, sags are happening where I wasn't really expecting them.  And they are not pleasant.  I want them to go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And dammit, when did I stop being able to see?  I have reading glasses in every room of the house except the bathroom, and they might have to go there next, as I can't read the labels on things anymore without them.  My daughter was crocheting thread last night, for goodness' sake, and it looked like a big white blob to me.  What the hell?  That and I can't read in the darkness anymore; bright light is required if I'm going to read.  WTF has happened to my eyes?  I can still see to drive at night, and can navigate around the house in the dark just fine, but now I'm wondering if that's something for me to start worrying about or not?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you're young, you don't think about being old.  You figure it will never happen, or it's so far away that it is not something to worry about.  But now I'm pushing 50, and instead of it being an uphill climb, it is more like a downward skid.  There are parts of my body that are completely rebelling.  Like my knees, which now seem to think that getting up from a low chair or stool is just a ridiculous idea.  Likewise for getting out of a low car.  I'm contemplating a lifted passenger van for my next car, just so I don't have to get up from a sitting position to get out, I'll just open the door and do a tuck and roll to the ground.  It would be easier.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering giving myself a Curves membership for Christmas.  Not that that will make me see better or get rid of that supporting chin-roll on my neck, but hey, at least maybe my knees will stop complaining.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:320043</id>
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    <title>Thankfuls</title>
    <published>2009-11-25T22:16:04Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-25T22:18:33Z</updated>
    <content type="html">It really depends on what day of the week I write, as to how thankful I can be.  This week is rough, as I am dead broke and the holidays are approaching and I can already tell it's going to be a rough Christmas, or at least, one in which the girls get presents but Hubby and I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I still have a roof over my head and a car that runs and food in the fridge/pantry/store-room.  I have two very smart girls and one pretty smart boy, and that Klown guy who still has the prettiest blue eyes I ever did see.  I have warm clothes, and great friends, and have yet to have to cut back on my Diet Coke habit because of economics.  I have the freedom to write what I want mostly when I want, in various places (this blog, &lt;a href="http://www.geeknewscentral.com"&gt;GeekNewsCentral.com,&lt;/a&gt; my other blogs, and my novels).   I still have much of my family in my life, and they are all blessed with reasonably good health.  I live in a free country and have Internet (when it's working, anyway) at home.  I have a decent job with decent insurance that allows me copious amounts of time off so that I don't go completely mental and take a few people with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I live in a beautiful state, even if I don't like its weather, and for the sixth year in a row, got to go to Colorado, my other home.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is pretty good.  It can always be better, but that's true no matter what your situation and location.  In the grimmest of circumstances, you can always find something to be thankful for.  I would do well to remember that more often.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:319889</id>
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    <title>Doing the Right Thing</title>
    <published>2009-11-22T00:00:10Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-22T00:00:10Z</updated>
    <content type="html">The last few weeks in the Momilies household have been a bit rough.  One of the Perfect Child's friends revealed something life-changing to her, through tears and much distress.  The Perfect Child was scared for her friend, and not sure what to do.  So she did what many a teenager won't do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She came to me.  I asked a lot of questions, thought about things, talked/asked some more questions, talked to a friend of mine who is a social worker, talked to my husband, and decided that we had to reach out to this child in a troubled situation.  The next step was to talk directly to the troubled child, which I did, only to find most of what she had told the Perfect Child was either not true, or she would not fess up to.  There was nothing we could do to help her, and worse, the troubled child then got angry at the Perfect Child for talking to me in the first place, and has broken off the friendship via a series of text messages.  The Perfect Child is upset, but she's also holding her head up, because she knew she did the right thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am very proud of her for doing so.  She did exactly the right thing, the thing we've taught her to do.  She was sure that her friend was in trouble.  For all we know, the friend is in trouble, but at this point there is not a lot we can do.  I feel bad that the Perfect Child has lost a friend.  This type of collateral damage is difficult to watch, and even more difficult to excuse, when we know our intervention had much to do with it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as caring, rational adults, we could do nothing less than to attempt to help.  And as a caring, thoughtful teenager, the Perfect Child felt she had no choice but to involve us.  Everything that was done was necessary.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this afternoon, killing time on the Internet instead of writing my novel, I ran across the following article.  At its base, it is about a teenager who did the right thing, she knew a friend was in trouble and went to an adult.  But atop that are some surprising details about how texting nearly cost a 12 year old her life, because her mother wasn't paying attention, and the 12 year old didn't feel she could talk to her mother.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so glad my daughter knows she can talk to me.  Even if it cost her a friendship in the process, she came to me, and she doesn't regret it.  Neither do I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://suburbanjournals.stltoday.com/articles/2009/11/21/stcharles/news/1122stc-pokin0.txt"&gt;Girl, 12, driven to suicide attempt by text messages&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:319573</id>
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    <title>Happy Thanksgiving!</title>
    <published>2009-11-20T01:01:23Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-20T01:01:23Z</updated>
    <content type="html">&lt;div style="background-color:#e9e9e9; width: 425px;"&gt;&lt;lj-embed id="13" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align:center; width:435px; margin-top:6px;"&gt;Try JibJab Sendables® &lt;a href="http://sendables.jibjab.com/ecards"&gt;eCards&lt;/a&gt; today!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:319253</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://momilies.livejournal.com/319253.html"/>
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    <title>Book the Twenty-Fourth, or How I Lit the World</title>
    <published>2009-11-17T21:59:06Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-17T21:59:06Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Gregory Maguire, author of the &lt;i&gt;Wicked&lt;/i&gt; series of books, wrote a little Christmas story in 2008 called &lt;i&gt;Matchless.&lt;/i&gt;  It is a retelling and "enhancement" of the &lt;i&gt;Little Matchgirl&lt;/i&gt; story by Hans Christian Anderson.  In fact, Part II of the book is virtually a reprint of that very story, with only a couple of minor changes (moving the story to Christmas eve, and having her see the spirit of her mother rather than her grandmother).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a very quick read, it took maybe 20 minutes tops.  The &lt;i&gt;Little Matchgirl&lt;/i&gt; is a very sad story, and the beginning and middle of &lt;i&gt;Matchless&lt;/i&gt; are equally dim.  But the story has a rather happy ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this is a very shallow read.  Very shallow.  It was intended to be read out loud, and I'd have probably enjoyed it more if it had been read out loud by a smooth English-accented voice, say that of, oh, I don't know, Alan Rickman maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, that would have made this better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this is book 24 for the year, which means I have met my goal of 2 books a month for the year.  And it's not December yet!  I've got a few others to read, hopefully before the end of the year, but not before I am done with &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org"&gt;NaNoWriMo,&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; which ends November 30th.  My novel is going quite well, although it is nowhere near done.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:319196</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://momilies.livejournal.com/319196.html"/>
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    <title>I Never Outgrew the Pimples</title>
    <published>2009-11-17T11:55:30Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-17T11:55:30Z</updated>
    <content type="html">So yesterday was just a bangup day all around.  I had just come back from a week in Colorado, attending a conference where I am considered somewhat of an "expert," to an office that was little changed from when I'd left.  I find it amusing and distressing that the Universe has such an easy time of bring things back into balance for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My conference was great, I networked with a lot of people and had a lot of requests for my content from last year's presentation at the same conference.  This year I hosted one roundtable on copyright issues and alternate format production, as well as giving a 1-hour presentation on the new Kindle DX device.  I am one of the top people in my field, and lots of people look to me for information and opinions about software and hardware.  It is nice to know I'm good at something, and to be respected for what I do know.  I am often challenged, as well, to explain why my campus does things the way they do them, when other campuses don't.  And I like those challenges, because it makes me think about other ways to do things, and opens me up to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it was a great week, I learned a lot, shared a lot, and felt a whole lot better about myself by the time I got home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which lasted until about 10:30, when I had to attend our weekly "Professional Staff Meeting."  Don't let the name fool you; the meeting is for those in our department who are "professional" rather than "classified," which to most people means "exempt" and "non-exempt."  Anyway, the meetings include my boss, the other coordinators, at least one of our network infrastructure guys, and our one and only Senior tech (the other one resigned a month or two ago).  These meetings seem to be more in the way of the boss getting us to do her work for her, than about anything else.  We talk about upcoming projects and anything going on that the others may need to know.  At the end of the meeting, I was showing off my Google schwag from the conference (a little Google keychain done in Braille - hard to get and pretty rare), and the boss and senior tech made some snarky comment about the schwag while I was talking about our keynote speaker from the conference, who happened to be a bigwig at Google.  I'm talking, and they are laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suddenly felt like that nerdy, socially awkward, pimple-faced fat girl I was in high school.  The one whose jokes were never funny, who never had anything but socially awkward, pimple-faced friends who happened to own scientific calculators, and never got asked to the school dance.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was completely deflated.  They heard not one word about how powerful the keynote speaker was, because they were busy snickering at their inappropriate joking.  I might as well have not been there for anything except comic relief.  If I was not quite sure of my standing in the department before now, then I am certainly well-aware of it now.  This is disturbing on so many levels, not the least of which is that I work hard and know my stuff, and have had no problem being respected up until the new boss came on board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new boss that I had a hand in hiring.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on my record, there are now four people that should not have been hired at that campus, that I had a hand in hiring.  That thought alone is pretty humbling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only have to make it through 11 more years, then I can retire.  My hope is that the boss doesn't make it that long.  And I'm going to turn down any request that I be on the hiring committee for the next boss.  I don't want to have anything to do with it.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:318862</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://momilies.livejournal.com/318862.html"/>
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    <title>Going to My Other Home</title>
    <published>2009-11-15T18:35:15Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-15T18:35:15Z</updated>
    <content type="html">In a half hour or so, the shuttle will be here to pick me up from my hotel and take me to the airport for a mid-afternoon flight back to St. Louis.  It is always really hard for me to head back to Missouri after I've been here.  Yes, I'm ready to go home and wash my clothes and sleep in my own bed and be with my kids and eat some regular food, but I won't wake up tomorrow and get to look at my mountains.  That is always hard for me.  When I am here, near the mountains, I feel like I am home.  Someday, I know, I will live here.  I lived here before, in some former life, and I will come home to here, someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been making this trip in November every year for about six years now.  In all those years, I have never been blessed to get snow while I was here.  This year, I got snow, a lot of it.  There was probably 8 inches or so overnight.  It is gorgeous, and in true Denver fashion, the roads are already clear and traffic is moving normally.  My flight should take off on time, which I will be grateful for.  I hate sitting around at the airport, which has particularly BAD free wifi and no power outlets and my laptop cannot run without being plugged in now that the battery is crapping out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the nicest hotel I've ever stayed in.  I will miss the double-headed shower.  I will miss that amazingly cushy bed and the fabulous all-cotton fluffy bedding.  I will miss fast wi-fi and Earl Grey tea with real cream.  This is already the chosen location for next year's conference, so I'll get to experience it again, I'm sure.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, I have a few pictures to share.  Here is before and after from my window.  Before was Monday, after was this morning (Sunday).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/denversnowbefore.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/denversnowafter.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And these are just some pretty snow shots from right around the hotel.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/denversnow01.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/denversnow02.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, the snow is already sliding off the roofs around me in big sheets.  In Missouri, we lament the snow.  Here, life goes on, and very little changes.  And I like that.  No panic!</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:318464</id>
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    <title>The Blind Leading the...Blind</title>
    <published>2009-11-13T12:51:57Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-13T12:51:57Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I am at my annual adaptive technology conference in Colorado.  We are in Denver this year, technically Westminster, in a really nice Weston hotel.  Despite the fact that they are nickel-and-diming everyone to death on the little stuff (cost me $5 to "receive" a package through their dock that contained the handouts and cd's I mailed ahead for my presentation), it has been a good experience.  I love the shower and wish I could take it home with me.  People that know me know that I really don't like water, and I don't like sitting in water for very long (even though a hot tub feels good, I don't do it often, and I rarely take an immersion bath), these showers are wonderful.  Two heads, that can be aimed different directions.  Hot water on my lower back and still able to wash my hair?  Bonus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday I went to have breakfast in the hotel restaurant.  I don't have a car this year so have mostly stayed put or gone where I could walk easily.  I'm sitting at a table by myself, checking email and eating some particularly tasty fried potato wedges with salsa, and some of my colleagues are coming in as well.  From the 180 attendees at our conference, there are probably 25 blind people. I always say we are all all, in our line of work or daily lives, going to encounter disabled persons of all kinds, but I think the blind disabled are the most difficult for us to help.  Do we walk up and just grab them and lead them, do we watch the (painfully) slow process of them using their cane to navigate their way to an empty table?  How do they order from a menu, and aren't they missing out on the beauty that is food, i.e., the look of it?  I work with blind students every day and wonder these things.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm watching the poor hostess, an older lady, try to figure out what to do with all these blind people.  there were probably a dozen of them in the restaurant at the same time as I was.  She scurried about trying to find the Braille menus, and shoved them onto the laps of the blind people when she found them.  Never mind that probably half of those people didn't real Braille and would have preferred someone read the menu to them instead.  She was just flummoxed, and unsure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I understand that.  I am often flummoxed and unsure.  Every semester I encounter a new student who has a disability I've never had to accommodate before.  I am always having to learn new things, and try new things.  The hostess' discomfort was amusing, to a point, as I could see she was trying her best to help, albeit not always doing the best job at it.  The blind people she was serving were courteous and flexible, which of course put everyone at ease.  I have to hope it was a learning experience not only for the hostess, but for anyone around who may have been observing these exchanges of information.  We all should make a point of being honest with ourselves about what we fear when it comes to the disabled, and also make a point of learning how best to accommodate what we see as debilitating from our own perspective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the case of a blind person, always ask them if they need help before you help.  Do not assume they need you to lead them, or that they want you to lead them.  Do not assume they know Braille; only ten percent of blind people in America actually read Braille.  Always ask how you can help them, and they will be happy to tell you. Most blind people are very vocal, extremely flexible, and understand your discomfort.  They are human, too, and will have their personalities and needs, and can be vastly different from one another, just as all humans are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learn so much every year when I come to this conference.  Probably a quarter of the attendees have some form of disability, and are all disability service providers working in an educational setting.  That is just an amazing thing, in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and blind people?  Sometimes they are the fastest walkers I know!  I can hardly keep up with them when they have their move on.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:318328</id>
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    <title>Veterans Day - What it is, and What it isn't</title>
    <published>2009-11-11T15:10:29Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-11T15:10:29Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Veterans Day, called Armistice or Remembrance day in other countries, is a day in which we celebrate veterans.  But what is a Veteran?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a man or woman who served on military duty during an armed conflict or war.  Any military person serving now who retires or finishes their duty with the military can be considered a veteran.  My brothers are veterans, as they served in the navy during the Falklands War and the War on Beirut in the early 80's.  My dad, who served in the late 50's just after the Korean War ended, is not a veteran, even though he served four years in the army.  Any military person serving during wartime, regardless if they were deployed to a war zone or not, are considered veterans.  Seeing battle is not a requirement to be a veteran; serving during a time of conflict is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this clears a few things up.  Just like the Fourth of July isn't about our military, and Memorial Day is about our military who died in combat, each of these days has a special purpose that is being misunderstood by many people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We should always be thanking our active and reserve military regardless of whether or not there is an active conflict or not.  These men and women are the backbone of our nation's defense.  But do not call non-conflict military, retired or not, "veterans," as they are not.  Reserve that for those that stepped up to volunteer during times of war.  That is what we are honoring on Veteran's Day.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:318165</id>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://momilies.livejournal.com/318165.html"/>
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    <title>In Colorado...Home Sweet Home</title>
    <published>2009-11-11T14:00:22Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-11T14:00:22Z</updated>
    <content type="html">This is my third day in Colorado at my annual conference for geeks who work with disabled people.  I've run into some old friends/colleagues, and met some new ones, and the weather has been beautiful.  There has been no snow and it doesn't look like there will be any, but that's okay.  Two days in a row I've taken a massive walk at lunchtime just to enjoy all that fresh mountain air.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is, for me, home sweet home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not rent a car this year, although I think I will pick one up on Saturday afternoon, when the conference is done and I still have one more day before I fly out.  I need to get up to the Celestial Seasonings Tea Factory in Boulder and stock up, and drive up to Nederland and get my "fix."  That is the town I'll be retiring to in a dozen years or so.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm staying at a Weston, which is rather posh.  The shower is lovely, two heads you can direct up and down, so one on my head and one on my lower back felt wonderful after sitting all day in a terrible hotel banquet room chair.  The beds are cushy, I have a view of the mountains right outside my window, and I have a little fridge in my room.  I'm going cheap and eating Ramen and cheese sticks and apples and chocolate banana bread I brought from home.  I do everything cheap these days, so we can still have what we need at home.  The economy is still kicking all our butts, Klown isn't getting a whole lot of hours at work and there are rumors we won't get pay raises at the college next year.  I wouldn't be surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm learning a ton of things, wishing my family could be with me (maybe next year, if I can save up enough money), and enjoying just being in Colorado.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:317925</id>
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    <title>Memories and Omens</title>
    <published>2009-11-08T03:22:25Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-08T03:22:25Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Several things today brought back some long-ago memories for me, that I was a bit surprised about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, this morning the Perfect Child and I went shopping to put a few things on layaway for Christmas.  As we wandered through the aisles of the local KMart, we saw the usual displays of "great gifts for the holidays" types of things.  There were racks of perfume/after shave "gift boxes" and holiday hosiery, and of course the sausage-and-cheese-and-tea boxes.  And on one end cap was a whole selection of furry little pillow/animal things with zippers in the back, for storing your pajamas on the bed each day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never had one of those growing up.  My jammies went under the pillow, or in the dirty clothes basket, but never in a cute little zip-up-pillow thing that looked like a unicorn or teddy bear or basket ball.  But my farm-girl cousin had one.  I remember it clearly.  It was a once-white teddy bear with deflated legs that zipped in the back.  When I would spend a week there, she would make our bed every morning (we shared a big iron bed when was there) and put her jammies in that little bear-pillow thing.  I thought it was neat, but weird.  I've never bought one for my kids nor desired to buy one.  I hadn't seen one in years, so they caught me a little bit off-guard when I saw them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second bit of a trailing memory came in late afternoon.  The Perfect Child has been babysitting regularly for a divorced couple who live down the road a bit.  They have an apparently amicable divorce and spend a lot of time together as a family, when they aren't being mad because one or the other of them has a new boyfriend/girlfriend.  Be that as it may, the guy part of this couple is a hoot, and he is also just an overgrown boy.  He has a hot car (some sort of Camaro or something that he keeps in the garage and only brings out on special occasions) and a go-cart.  He's been bugging the perfect child to drive it, and today she did.  She had a blast, and learned a thing or two about driving while she was at it.  It reminded me of some of the things I got to do as a kid and a teen, things that I wouldn't have learned if not for the efforts of some man or other to teach me.  I learned to shoot a pistol at about her age, and I had already learned to catch and ride a mostly wild horse at my uncle's place, and was driving tractors and ATV's.  It made me nostalgic to see her stepping outside of her little safe box and doing something unusual, and having fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And later in the afternoon, while I was getting ready to BBQ and Trouble and the Perfect Child were playing their little "maidens in a castle" game in the back yard, a small red-tailed hawk landed in the tree just above the fence.  He sat there for a very long time, looking around, not fifteen feet from us.  We didn't seem to be bothering him at all.  Finally, he flew off, skimming the ground between the trees and going up between the houses up the hill.  We've had hawks in that tree before, but never that close to the ground, and never when we've been outside.  It was amazing and wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 36 hours, I will be in Colorado.  It was over 80 degrees here today, and I can say that's enough of that.  Can't wait to see some snow, cooler temperatures, and a mountain or two.  I'm ready.  Now the clock just needs to move forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and &lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org"&gt;&lt;b&gt;NaNoWriMo&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt; has begun.  As of this moment, I have 12,500 words in the bag, progress I am very happy with.  So glad I'm doing it again this year.</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:317481</id>
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    <title>Book the Twenty-Third, or, Who Said Anything About God?</title>
    <published>2009-11-02T21:52:26Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-02T21:52:26Z</updated>
    <content type="html">I know, I'm behind.  Took me forever to read this one, not because I was piddling around, but because I loaned it to someone when I was half-way through it.  So, I finally finished it, although I've had it for a close to a month!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Against All Gods&lt;/i&gt; is a great little read, pretty short but very powerful.  Written by A. C. Grayling as "Six Polemics on Religion and an Essay on Kindness," the book really struck a huge chord with me.  As I get older, and I hope more mature and more rational, my "belief" systems in all things deific are on the wane.  In fact, if someone were to ask me at this very moment what spiritual path I followed, I would have to say none.  I may claim Paganism or recovered Catholic or lapsed Lutheran, but when it comes down to it, I do not believe in a higher power, and haven't for a very long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I am, if I follow the essays in this little book, is a Humanist, or an Ethicist.  I am either too rational, or too stupidly unfaithful, to have any belief in an entity that will come along and rescue me from my ills, which are 99% self-induced.  The reality?  I must pull myself out of my own pits of despair, since I dug the pits to begin with.  They are my problem and my problem alone.  &lt;i&gt;Against All Gods&lt;/i&gt; rather reinforces that for me.  Here is a quote from the end of the very last essay, "The Alternative: Humanism:"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;For that is what humanism is: it is, to repeat and insist, about the value of things human.  Its desire to learn from the past, its exhortation to courage in the present, and its espousal of hope for the future, are about real things, real people, real human need and possibility, and the fat of the fragile world we share.  It is about human life; it requires no belief in an afterlife.  It is about this world; it requires no belief in another world.  It requires no commands from divinities, no promises of reward or threats of punishment, no myths and rituals, either to make sense of things or to serve as a prompt to the ethical life.  It requires only open eyes, sympathy, and the kindness it prompts, and reason.&lt;/i&gt;</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:317323</id>
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    <title>Who's That Creepin'...</title>
    <published>2009-11-01T12:57:39Z</published>
    <updated>2009-11-01T12:57:39Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Well, another Halloween come and gone.  After nearly three solid weeks of rain, we had a bright, sunny, if chilly day.  It was perfect.  I started the morning by making the last of my grocery store and drug store runs, added a few fun things to the outside display (big cauldron of baby dolls with a sign "Baby Soup (you know you want some!)") and more spiderwebs and more lights, while The Perfect Child and Klown carved pumpkins.  I then spent way more time than I needed to making up a Halloween mix on my iPod to play on the stereo during trick-or-treating, then did makeup and a quick sewing repair for Braveheart's vampire costume.  Her mom was clueless about what to do, but I fixed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had some wonderful trick-or-treaters, and lots of positive comments on our display.  Klown had to work at the grocery store, but he got back in time to hear a few of the comments himself.  As hard as we work on the display, it is wonderful to hear the comments.  We can't wait to get started on next year's, now!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today starts my usual November adventure.  &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org"&gt;National Novel Writing Month&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; started at midnight, and here it is 8 a.m. and I haven't even written a word!  Well, that's because I need to get the laundry going and eat something and get some hot tea to calm my scratchy throat from being outside so much last night.  Fortunately, I do have an extra hour today, and I didn't spend it sleeping!  Now, if all those clocks in the house would just reset themselves...</content>
  </entry>
  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:317151</id>
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    <title>Chicken Pot Pie</title>
    <published>2009-10-25T02:27:07Z</published>
    <updated>2009-10-25T02:27:07Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Made this tonight and it was delish.  I'm going to give all the steps because I think they are important, but you can substitute however you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chicken Pot Pie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To prepare chicken:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two large chicken breasts, bone-in&lt;br /&gt;two stalks celery, broken into pieces&lt;br /&gt;1 medium yellow onion, rough-cut into chunks&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put all ingredients in a large pot, cover with water, and boil until chicken is done and tender.  Remove chicken from broth to cool, remove and discard onion and celery.  When chicken is cool, debone and dice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To prepare gravy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two cups chicken broth (use the broth from the chicken you just cooked, freeze the rest)&lt;br /&gt;2 T. flour&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mix flour into broth and cook over medium heat until thick and clear.  Salt and pepper to taste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To prepare vegetables:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 white potatoes, peeled and diced&lt;br /&gt;1/3 pkg frozen mixed "country style" veggies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Place in steamer and and steam until done.  Do not undercook!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make crust:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 c. biscuit mix&lt;br /&gt;2/3 c. milk&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mix together until combined, then knead with floured hands twenty strokes.  Do not over-knead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To assemble pot pie:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In large casserole dish, mix together chicken, gravy, and veggies until combined.  Spread evenly.  Spread biscuit dough over the top, spreading evenly to a thickness of no more than 1/2 inch.  Bake in 425 degree oven for 30 minutes or until the biscuit top is lightly browned.  Serve immediately.</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:316758</id>
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    <title>Leaf Peeps!</title>
    <published>2009-10-24T15:05:42Z</published>
    <updated>2009-10-24T15:05:42Z</updated>
    <content type="html">We are having an absolutely spectacular fall this year.  This is probably the peak weekend, and I managed to get a few pictures when I headed out to Cedar Hill this morning.  This is the one thing I will likely miss by moving to Colorado.  They have Aspen trees, but it isn't the same as what we get here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/autumn2009-01.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/autumn2009-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/autumn2009-03.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/autumn2009-04.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/autumn2009-05.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/autumn2009-06.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:316584</id>
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    <title>Moving On...</title>
    <published>2009-10-23T13:30:25Z</published>
    <updated>2009-10-23T13:30:25Z</updated>
    <content type="html">Ardi, you might not want to read this one.  Unless you have tissues.  Lots of tissues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday Tater's &amp;quot;BFF&amp;quot; Gabby Abby moved to Kentucky.  Her dad took a better job, and the family moved in less than two weeks.  Tater has two BFF's, Braveheart and Gabby.  Those three were like peas in a pod, and I know Tater is going to miss her friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weirdly enough, I was the one with the tears.  And I know it's not about Abby leaving, although it hurts me to know my daughter has lost a friend.  My family moved when I was 10 and I've not forgotten how lost I felt for weeks in our new home, with no friends and a strange school.  No, this isn't about Abby or my daughter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's about &lt;span class='ljuser ljuser-name_ardithquinne' lj:user='ardithquinne' style='white-space: nowrap;'&gt;&lt;a href='http://ardithquinne.livejournal.com/profile'&gt;&lt;img src='http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif' alt='[info]' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: bottom; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href='http://ardithquinne.livejournal.com/'&gt;&lt;b&gt;ardithquinne&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; , one of my BFF's.  Her and her husband are getting the incredible opportunity to move to Arizona and start a new life.  Ardi has been unemployed since April, and her husband Jon has been under-employed (he works but it's not always full time) for a long time.  And Jon has a friend in Arizona who runs a record store and has wanted him to move there forever and a day.  Jon was able to transfer to the same store in Arizona, and Ardith quickly found plenty of work to apply for in her field.  They have no children at home to worry about, or close family that need them nearby.  What better time to snatch an opportunity like this than now?  The best thing is that they are going to stay with friends (low or no rent until they can both get on their feet), and they still have the opportunity to come home if things don't work out.  They live in a two-family building with Ardith's dad, and he won't rent out their apartment.  So if things crash, they can always come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say this has win-win written all over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except for one tiny little thing.  She's my BFF and I am going to miss her unbelievably.  The two years that I've known Ardi, we've managed to forge a pretty close bond.  We whine together about husbands, writing, friends who go haywire, and family that is just...out there somewhere.  Our get-togethers almost always involve food, man-talk, and lots of laughs.  Heck, Ardi is the one that got me in trouble at Barnes and Noble with the young chickie who was "all that." ("Back of whose head?")  Every two weeks, I get to spend time with her, and I'm the better for it every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's going to be pretty hard to do when she's in Arizona and I'm in Missouri.  And that gives me a big ole sad.  She leaves in two weeks, and I'm already crying about it when no one is looking.  I'm gonna miss her.  I'm going to miss her more than Tater is going to miss Abby.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But despite that, I wish her and Jon only the BEST on their new adventure.  I think it's wonderful, and I am envious that they are getting this kind of opportunity.  Not too many of us ever will.  They are going to do great in Arizona, I know it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn't mean I don't get to be sad.  My sadness, and the sadness of all of their friends that will miss them, says an awful lot about then, don't you think?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, Ardi, pass me the tissues.  I know you're sitting there reading this.  *sob*</content>
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  <entry>
    <id>urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:momilies:316193</id>
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    <title>A Great Way to Waste an Afternoon, and it Didn't Cost a Thing!</title>
    <published>2009-10-17T17:10:29Z</published>
    <updated>2009-10-17T17:12:00Z</updated>
    <content type="html">We went to the Halloween store looking for hands.  We found everything else first.  Left with only hands, so it was a really cheap date!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200901.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200902.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200903.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200904.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200905.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200906.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200907.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200908.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.susabelle.com/blog/halloweenstore200909.jpg"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;</content>
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