<?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-8318523011727220821</id><updated>2011-11-27T17:46:06.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life or at least something like it</title><subtitle type='html'>My thoughts about Family, Army Life, My kids, and now Pregnancy.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>58</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-7660409434936147134</id><published>2008-09-25T08:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-09-25T08:35:25.555-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurricanes</title><content type='html'>Thankfully they didn't hit us.  And trust me, we are truly thankful.  We are praying for those families who were hit and still haven't made it to their homes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after Hurricane Ike hit, I needed gas in my Durango.  We drove around to so many gas stations, only to find "No Gas" signs or gas that was over $5 a gallon.  So we headed to post.  They did have gas, but this is what was posted on the gas pump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/gaspic.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/gaspic.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can't see the sign it says "Limited 10 gallons".  And if you look closer at the gallons and price, 2.2 gallons was already over $10.  Crazy.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those signs are still posted on every gas station here in Augusta, GA.  Some gas stations are still out of gas.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note.....I've been looking at this car for a long time.  I love the new Dodge Journey.  Even had the guts to go test drive it last May.  OMG fell in love with it.  I want one so bad.  Especially with the new baby coming.  Anyways....we can't get one right now, maybe not ever, but they gave me a book on it and I look at it every now and then.  My daughter Emily however, looks at it a lot more than I.  I catch her at least once a day looking at it, lol.  She even tells Jeff to go get mommy her new car, lol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_1634.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_1634.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_1633.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_1633.png" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-7660409434936147134?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/7660409434936147134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=7660409434936147134' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7660409434936147134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7660409434936147134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2008/09/hurricanes.html' title='Hurricanes'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3433980965494483501</id><published>2008-08-29T22:47:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-31T01:05:23.298-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You've got to be kidding me</title><content type='html'>I was on Foxnews today and came across this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sean "Diddy" Combs wants you to know celebrities are feeling the rise in gas prices, too, and wants his "Saudi Arabia brothers and sisters" to help him out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gas prices are too motherf-----g high," he says in his latest YouTube video. "As you know, I do have my own jet, but I've been having to fly back and forth to L.A. pursuing my acting career . Now, if I'm flying back and forth twice a month, that's like $200,000, $250,00 round trip. F--- that. I'm back on American Airlines."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hip-hop mogul recorded the video blog in an unspecified airport while walking through the terminal and getting on a plane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diddy made a plea for some free oil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Give a shout out to all my Saudi Arabia brothers and sisters and all the brothers and sisters in all the countries that have oil — if you could please send me some oil for my jet, I would truly appreciate it," Diddy says, showing his commercial jet boarding pass to the camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking a stab at the upcoming political election, Diddy wants to make sure politicians understand his frustration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can you believe this? I'm actually flying commercial — that's how high gas prices are. I'm at the gate right now. This is really happening — proof gas prices are too high. Tell whoever the next president is, we need to bring gas prices down. ... I can't believe I'm flying commercial. ... Even your boy is affected by gas prices."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is he seriously, serious?  You have more money than you know what to do with and you are complaining about flying commercially.  Seriously man.  Why don't you take some of that money and feed some of the starving kids in the world.  Or do some good with it period instead of complaining that you have to fly commercially instead of flying in your "Private Jet".  Geez.  This is why the world is the way it is.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try worrying about whether or not you have enough gas in your car to take your kids back and forth to school.  Seriously now, free gas for your private jet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3433980965494483501?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3433980965494483501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3433980965494483501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3433980965494483501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3433980965494483501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2008/08/youve-got-to-be-kidding-me.html' title='You&apos;ve got to be kidding me'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-9204959048994645703</id><published>2008-08-18T20:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T21:10:48.610-06:00</updated><title type='text'>God has a plan</title><content type='html'>Right? That's what I gotta keep telling myself. I tell myself that every day when I get up. I have to keep saying it. I've always been told that everything happens for a reason. That there's a plan for everyone. That's how I was raised. I keep having my doubts. Wondering what my reason in this life is because right now I feel like a failure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried talking to people, but they chalk it up to pregnancy hormones. I feel otherwise. Sure my life could be a whole lot worse than it is. Trust me I know that. I'm not stupid or oblivious to that fact.  I know it.  I feel blessed in lots of ways.  God has been good to us.  But I feel like I'm failing as a mom and as a wife.  I can't provide everything for my kids.  And sometimes I feel like I can't provide them the support and love they need.  Don't judge me for saying that.  I just feel that way.  And yeah when I first found out I was pregnant with our 3rd baby, I cried for days.  All I kept asking myself was how were we going to provide for this baby, when we can't afford the two kids we already have.  I feel beyond horrible about that.  No we weren't trying.  I was told this baby was a miracle because they didn't see how I could get pregnant again.  I guess that's why I feel like God has a plan.  I just wish I knew what that plan was.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a little off subject, but I need to get it out.  I've been trying to help this one girl find a place to live here.  Her family will be PCSing here next year.  Tonite she bragged about how much money they had in the bank.  I hate when people do that.  And don't say, well if you had that much money you would brag too.  No I wouldn't.  I'm not that type of person.  If we had as much money as she has I would be helping people with it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yeah I guess if I had that much money, then I wouldn't be writing this blog to vent my frustrations.  I don't know.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry this post is all over the place and screwy.  I'm just a beyond upset pregnant mom who just needs to vent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-9204959048994645703?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/9204959048994645703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=9204959048994645703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/9204959048994645703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/9204959048994645703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2008/08/god-has-plan.html' title='God has a plan'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4644159905849436515</id><published>2008-02-21T21:11:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T22:45:46.018-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Book Wish List</title><content type='html'>Since I started working out, I've been reading just about anything I can get my hands on.  Which meant I was re-reading a lot of books.  So one day Emily and I went to Borders looking for bargain books.  Gotta love those bins.  I found a BIG book and it was only $1 so I bought it.  It's title "Little Lady, Big Apple", by Hester Browne.  After reading through the first few pages, I realized it was a sequel book, so of course I had to go and get the first book.  It's called "The Little Lady Agency".  I fell in love with the book.  So much that I was working out for 2 hours or more at a time just to read it.  I ride a stationary bike and an elliptical so somehow I manage to hold a book.  I finished it within three days.  Then started on the second, "Little Lady, Big Apple".  It was even better.  Again I read it in three days.  I honestly didn't want to stop reading.  I find out that Hester Browne was coming out with a third book in the series, "Little Lady and the Prince".  I had to wait a week to get it, so for that week I had to read magazines.  I think I could tell anyone who wanted to listen what their horoscope was going to be for three months, lol.  Finally I get the third book and I finished it this morning.  I loved it even more than the first two.  But sadly I hear it's the last installment of Miss Melissa Romney-Jones.  Is it weird to feel like you've lost a best friend?  I want the series to go on.  They are such great reads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I googled Hester Browne and these are her only books.  So I did one of those "if you like this book you'll like this one" things.  I have thirteen books that sound very promising, plus I got two more today.  I bought "p.s. I Love You" and "Other Bolyen Girl" and yes both are movies, but I always like to read the book before seeing the movie.  By the way "The Green Mile" book is way better than the movie.  So is "In Her Shoes" by Jennifer Weiner.  I have also read all of her books and am waiting until her next one comes out in April.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is my wish list.  I've babbled on too much.  But I gotta say, I do love to read.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 1.  Midori by Moonlight by:  Wendy Nelson Tokunaga&lt;br /&gt; 2.  After You'd Gone by:  Maggie O'Farrell&lt;br /&gt; 3.  Playing James, High Society, and The Party Season by:  Sarah Mason&lt;br /&gt; 4.  Confessions of a Failed Grown Up by:  Stephanie Calman&lt;br /&gt; 5.  The Nanny Diaries by:  Nicola Kraus and Emma McLaughlin (yes also a movie)&lt;br /&gt; 6.  Waiting for Birdy by:  Catherine Newman&lt;br /&gt; 7.  Seeing Me Naked by:  Liza Palmer&lt;br /&gt; 8.  The Half Life of Stars by:  Louise Wener&lt;br /&gt; 9.  The Starter Wife by:  Gigi Levangie (a TV series)&lt;br /&gt;10.  An Offer You Can't Refuse by:  Jill Mansell&lt;br /&gt;12.  Something Borrowed and Something Blue by Emily Giffin&lt;br /&gt;13.  Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (the new version with help notes)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are more than thirteen books there actually, some Authors I've chosen have two or three books I would like to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are seriously looking for something to read I would highly recommend anything by Jennifer Weiner and Hester Browne.  I loved loved loved their books.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4644159905849436515?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4644159905849436515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4644159905849436515' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4644159905849436515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4644159905849436515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2008/02/book-wish-list.html' title='Book Wish List'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-2001638489076066499</id><published>2008-01-22T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T22:56:31.436-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Food and feeling sorry for myself</title><content type='html'>I started writing down things I eat, when I eat them, and how I feel when I eat them.  After reading the passages I have come to realize I eat too much when I feel stressed, lonely, sad.....and so on.  It's 1am and I just baked cookies.  I write down, "I baked cookies at 1am".  Why?  I think I am having a pitty party for myself.  And for reasons I wont explain.  Well not here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a good note...my sister is trying to help me get into a school back home.  Maybe it will help me feel more productive with my life....since I can't seem to find a stinking job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-2001638489076066499?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/2001638489076066499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=2001638489076066499' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/2001638489076066499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/2001638489076066499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2008/01/food-and-feeling-sorry-for-myself.html' title='Food and feeling sorry for myself'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-998570012147216062</id><published>2008-01-12T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-12T11:08:13.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>$9000</title><content type='html'>So for the last few weeks the girls and I have been going back and forth to the dentist. After the initial visit they work up a custom work order for your mouth. Poor Allyson was blessed to get my horrible teeth. My teeth aren't strong. They say it's lack of calcium in my system. Hello allergic to dairy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways took fix only Allyson's teeth will cost us...........$2600. That's with dental insurance. Why so much???? Because they have to make her sleep each time. Insurance pays none of that. Not one bit. It's almost $200 each time. Emily's will cost around $1000. Again hers is just for sealants and stuff, but because of the stupid knock out medicine we have to pay out the butt. Now to mine. To fix my teeth will cost us over $5000. Why???? I blame it on not proper dental care as a kid. My parents did have dental insurance and well for that matter they didn't even have medical insurance. My teeth have never been perfect. I hate my smile. The lack of calcium makes them very susceptible to breakage and infection.  I have had two infections in the last two months.  I'm on antibotics now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I know I shouldn't have waited so long on the girls teeth either.  Especially after my experiences, but I'm trying to take care of it now.  I just didn't think it would cost so dag on much.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you got an extra $9000 lying around, mind donating it to the Fread Girls Dental Work Fund?  LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-998570012147216062?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/998570012147216062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=998570012147216062' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/998570012147216062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/998570012147216062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2008/01/9000.html' title='$9000'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-1318134243482146989</id><published>2008-01-09T13:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T14:11:54.018-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Depression</title><content type='html'>My mom has battled with it for as long as I can remember.  Honestly I will say I always thought it was "in her head".  I figured if she really wanted to, she could be happy.  She could be like the rest of us, you know "normal".  I talked to my doctor here recently and of course she asked me about my medical history.  I had to fill out this survey that seemed to ask everything except where I went to school.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As she sat down, read the forms I had just filled out, she says, "So your mother suffers from depression."  I said yes.  She then goes into this how spill about how it can be passed on to family members.  I of course in my head was going "yeah right, ok, whatever."  I should have been listening, I guess.  The survey I had filled out was about depression.  Apparently she thinks I'm a good candidate for it.  I refused to believe so.  Again going back to the whole mentality that it's all "in her head".  I don't want to believe I have it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here lately the people around me keep asking me if I'm ok.  Am I happy?  Jeff keeps asking if I am mad at him.  The girls seem not to want to be around me anymore.  And it's my fault.  In truth, I am not happy.  Yes I am mad.  And I really wish my girls wanted to be around me more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I not happy?  I honestly hate this place.  I thought I had made a couple of friends, but nope I was wrong.  One doesn't want to hang out because I have kids (she has none) and one recently ignored me at Wal-mart.  I've been here 7 months and have honestly nothing to show for it.  Ok, so yeah I do.  I now have big puffy bags under my eyes.  Bad news is, I'm not getting out of here any time soon.  Jeff was told the other day he would be locked into this unit 2 more years.  And I honestly think he isn't trying anymore.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So could I be depressed?  I guess, but I still don't want to believe it.&lt;br /&gt;I know some people out there don't believe it, they have the same mentality as me.  But I'm starting to think I am wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-1318134243482146989?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/1318134243482146989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=1318134243482146989' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1318134243482146989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1318134243482146989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2008/01/depression.html' title='Depression'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-1694770158440063069</id><published>2007-12-19T22:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T22:23:21.750-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I need help</title><content type='html'>So I'm trying to find a job. Have been for a long while now. No one has called. Nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I need a job bad. Really bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to school to be an Event/Wedding planner. Problem is Augusta isn't the greatest place for listing jobs in places you can find them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My question is how do I approach a company that doesn't have job listings??? Like how do I nonchalantly ask if they have positions open????  I have found a few Event planning businesses.  I just need to know how to approach them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-1694770158440063069?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/1694770158440063069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=1694770158440063069' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1694770158440063069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1694770158440063069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-need-help.html' title='I need help'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3512082583548961135</id><published>2007-11-02T23:26:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T23:41:32.007-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously????  It's a stupid post but so freaking true</title><content type='html'>So what's wrong with this????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Britney Spears makes $737,000 a month.  A FREAKING month.  You know what I could do with $737,000 a month?  I could pay $1000 a month rent for 737 families.  Average, that's about what Military families pay a month for housing.  (Note I said AVERAGE).  And you know what????  I would honestly do it.  In a heart beat.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What does Britney Spears spend it on????&lt;br /&gt;Spears' monthly expenses include $49,267 in mortgage for two houses, $16,000 for clothes and $102,000 on entertainment, gifts and vacations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never in my life owned enough clothing to equal $16,000.  Much less a month.  Seriously what costs $16,000?  Not underwear that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know I used to be a Britney Spears fan.  I really did.  I have all her cd's except for her most recent one.  I serious liked her.  Then something crawled up her butt (pantiless of course) and made her go nuts.  And somehow, because people think she can sing, she makes $737,000 a month.  SERIOUSLY??????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's $8,844,000 a stinking year.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on GIRL get your crap together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many other people in the FREAKING world who need that money and somehow you were lucky enough to be one of those people.  &lt;br /&gt;Get your crap together and do something good with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3512082583548961135?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3512082583548961135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3512082583548961135' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3512082583548961135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3512082583548961135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/11/seriously-its-stupid-post-but-so.html' title='Seriously????  It&apos;s a stupid post but so freaking true'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3332035348510936664</id><published>2007-09-26T22:02:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T22:03:11.345-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am Me</title><content type='html'>So....a stupid little survey I did on here got me to thinking about things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come to realize that I should believe in myself more than I do.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be thankful for all things every day and not just when things are going good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to believe that God does not give us more than we can handle, because sometimes I do wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that my girls are truly a blessing.  Even though the little one can get up at 7:30 in the morning and still be going strong at Midnite.  What can I say?  She is just like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come to realize that even though I don't have an official "Army" contract, I do belong to the Army.  My marriage certificate says it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that no matter how difficult the decision, my husband makes the best one he can for his family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that people, be friend or family, move on sometime.  I just have to get used to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have realized that I am who I am.  If I try to change I will no longer be me.  I will no longer be the girl my husband married or the mom of two beautiful little girls.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3332035348510936664?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3332035348510936664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3332035348510936664' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3332035348510936664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3332035348510936664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-am-me.html' title='I am Me'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3310932822966739063</id><published>2007-09-19T22:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T22:56:12.630-06:00</updated><title type='text'>You never know (Complaining post)</title><content type='html'>How good you have it, till it's gone.&lt;br /&gt;How true is that saying?  In this case, very!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought the sleepless nites and the endless worry would go away when we moved.  It has followed me and doubled in size.  To make myself feel a little better, I'm going to complain here.  Jeff doesn't want to listen and well my girls don't understand.  But they do give me big hugs and tell me it's going to be ok.  And yeah, just like most other times, it's going to be about money.  Why?  Because money makes the world go round.  Kidding, but still it's about money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we were supposed to come here and be able to save money.  But infact we are spending more than we were in CO.  Two apartment rents, two utility bills, two everything.  Why two?  Because we are taking care of my parents.  They are only suppose to stay here until March.  I don't know if we will make it till March.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of that my truck broke down.  Guess that's what I get for running the brakes into the ground.  Jeff's truck is falling apart litterally, falling apart, as in pieces are coming off of it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An upside, we have a buyer for our house, but because we can't afford to pay for it anymore, our loan amount has went up and the buyers want us to pay all closing costs and such.  Which we can't do.  I really thought it was going to end, but have come to the conclusion that it never will.  The house I really loved, is now haunting us.  Ugh.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I shouldn't complain.  I have a lot to be thankful for and don't get me wrong I am.  But I really had to get that out of my system.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3310932822966739063?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3310932822966739063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3310932822966739063' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3310932822966739063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3310932822966739063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/09/you-never-know-complaining-post.html' title='You never know (Complaining post)'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-8565742175714635991</id><published>2007-08-29T00:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-29T00:16:34.225-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss my friends...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC01511.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC01511.gif" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Pictures0007-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Pictures0007-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;probably a lot more than they know it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can honestly say I've been here for around 4 months and haven't made one friend.  Not one.  And it's not for lack of trying.  I have to be "cautious".  I can't be friends with AIT students wives and the instructor wives act like I have a newcomer disease that there apparently is no cure for.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is one to do?  We have at least 8 more months here and could be stuck here longer.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So just so all you girls in Colorado know, I really really really really Miss You Guys.  I miss our crazy nites, our kids playing, and our dinners with China Scoop.  I Miss You All.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-8565742175714635991?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/8565742175714635991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=8565742175714635991' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8565742175714635991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8565742175714635991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-miss-my-friends.html' title='I miss my friends...'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3759446854916715995</id><published>2007-08-14T22:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-14T22:36:48.865-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I have come</title><content type='html'>to the conclusion that my life will never be my own.  The Army owns it.  I literally hate this place.  It's infested by bugs.  Big bugs, little bugs, the kind that bite.  Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't act happy about it anymore.  I'm doing whatever now just to make Jeff happy.  And he, is apparently a lot happier than I.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3759446854916715995?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3759446854916715995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3759446854916715995' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3759446854916715995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3759446854916715995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-have-come.html' title='I have come'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4289824415367802416</id><published>2007-08-02T23:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-08-02T23:45:08.109-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Too many thoughts</title><content type='html'>So there's a post about West Virginia.  Another about the Army and one about moving.  But they are all running together in my head and I'm not sure I can write about them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now we are in the process of moving into our apartment.  I didn't realize we had so much crap.  So until the moving is over, posts and internet will be few.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Kelly and Krissi for your kind words and encouragement.  I appreciate it more than you girls know.  Hugs&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4289824415367802416?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4289824415367802416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4289824415367802416' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4289824415367802416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4289824415367802416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/08/too-many-thoughts.html' title='Too many thoughts'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3472256936134972457</id><published>2007-07-28T01:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T01:48:39.756-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Am I wrong?</title><content type='html'>So....we couldn't find a place to live here.  I'm serious.  All together we lost 3 houses and countless apartments.  The only apartment I could find (that we could afford) is a two bedroom.  That being said, my parents can no longer stay with us.  Instead they have chosen to stay at the one bedroom apartment for now until their lease is up and then we go from there.  They may stay.  They may go.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should I feel bad?  Am I wrong?  Am I a horrible daughter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel happy that we will finally have a place of our own again, but other times I feel awful because I cherish the company of parents.  I like being able to see them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I don't think I will feel right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3472256936134972457?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3472256936134972457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3472256936134972457' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3472256936134972457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3472256936134972457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/07/am-i-wrong.html' title='Am I wrong?'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4914343648661153406</id><published>2007-07-22T23:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-22T23:08:09.102-06:00</updated><title type='text'>We lost it</title><content type='html'>In fact we have lost two houses.  Go figure right?   I have called every apartment place in this city and nothing.  So now we are trying to get housing on post.  But we are pretty far down on the list.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4914343648661153406?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4914343648661153406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4914343648661153406' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4914343648661153406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4914343648661153406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/07/we-lost-it.html' title='We lost it'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-8398752417486156192</id><published>2007-07-13T09:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T09:44:38.050-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't win for losing</title><content type='html'>This week didn't start out great.&lt;br /&gt;Tensions here are getting high.&lt;br /&gt;I have seriously called every apartment building in this town.  Nothing.  I called rental houses, out of 50 we find 2.  One Jeff doesn't like, the other he loves, but we could lose it.  Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our contract with our realtor to sell our house was up on Sunday.  Did we hear anything from her?  Nope not until two days later and in an email saying "Our contract has expired, what do you want me to do?"  No phone call or anything, just an email.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to get a job.  Not a big deal.  I don't know how to do anything really.  I haven't since I became pregnant with Allyson.  I worked at Wal-mart at that time.  Nothing against Wal-mart, but I didn't like it.  I know my mom works there and all, but I don't know.  Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything is everywhere and my head is all messed up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-8398752417486156192?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/8398752417486156192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=8398752417486156192' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8398752417486156192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8398752417486156192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/07/cant-win-for-losing.html' title='Can&apos;t win for losing'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-6685687337573280088</id><published>2007-07-06T00:38:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-06T00:45:25.863-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I wonder</title><content type='html'>I wonder if you can actually fake happiness?  Is it possible for people not to see?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not happy.  I try to act that way.  To get by.  To get left alone.  To be understood.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acting only gets you by so far.  I cannot do it everyday.  Somedays I wish I could lock myself up and throw away the key.  I feel that maybe, there is too much negativity in my life.  My children don't need it.  I don't need it.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know most of the situations I'm going through, I brought upon myself.  But we are supposed to learn from those situations right?  I'm not sure I have.  I'm not sure I ever will.  Can I learn?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-6685687337573280088?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/6685687337573280088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=6685687337573280088' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/6685687337573280088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/6685687337573280088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-wonder.html' title='I wonder'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-2424428485591500440</id><published>2007-07-01T23:59:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T00:12:27.991-06:00</updated><title type='text'>**Warning** Complaining post</title><content type='html'>I don't think that I complain about Army life very often.  If it weren't for the Army, I would have never met my hubby.  But tonite, I'm complaining.  This place sucks, this apartment sucks, and the people who live beside and above us suck.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The place smells like rotten eggs all the time, I kid you not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This apartment place is infested with bugs and the neighbors suck.&lt;br /&gt;Our upstairs neighbor thinks it's cool to stomp around at 2am and slam things.  I am a heavy sleeper,  but he can wake me up.  Our neighbor next door apparently can make noise, but lord as soon as someone else does it she hits the wall.  People I swear.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to win the lottery.  I want to be able to put my family in a house that is not bug infested.  The only neighbors are the neigbors on the other side of the fence.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my life back.  I do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-2424428485591500440?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/2424428485591500440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=2424428485591500440' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/2424428485591500440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/2424428485591500440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/07/warning-complaining-post.html' title='**Warning** Complaining post'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3492006549905493827</id><published>2007-06-29T23:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-29T23:12:41.815-06:00</updated><title type='text'>4 years old</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00027.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00028.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00028.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00068.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00068.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00070.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00070.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC00023.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My baby isn't a baby anymore.  She isn't even a toddler really.  She is old enough to go to Pre-K.  She almost out weights her 6 yr old sister.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily turned 4 yrs old today.  Since we are new to our area, we tried to make it extra super special.  She got to go to Build-A-Bear and Chuck.E.Cheese.  She had fun.  I did, all except for Chuck.E.Cheese.  I hate that place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways....here are some pictures from her day.  Love You Emily&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3492006549905493827?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3492006549905493827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3492006549905493827' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3492006549905493827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3492006549905493827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/06/4-years-old.html' title='4 years old'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-7139621285721675391</id><published>2007-06-23T22:45:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T23:38:23.132-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonder Pets Wonder Pets We're On Our Way</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/p3754717dt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/p3754717dt.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're On Our Way to help a friend and save the day.  Meet Linny (hamster), Tuck (turtle), and Ming Ming (duck).  They are the Wonder Pets&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes I have that song stuck in my head. Why?, you ask. Because my almost 4 yr old sings it and almost constantly. She is totally obsessed with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her birthday is Friday and as always poor Emily is getting gypped. Last year we arrived back in WV on her birthday. My cousin threw her a little b-day party, but nothing too kid friendly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year, well we just moved here and rightly don't know anyone. So poor Emily is getting it again where birthday parties are concerned. This sucks. And what sucks even more is that the hubby wants to take her to Chuck.E.Cheese. God help me.  Maybe the Wonder Pets will come and save the day, oh wait, they only save other animals.  :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-7139621285721675391?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/7139621285721675391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=7139621285721675391' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7139621285721675391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7139621285721675391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/06/wonder-pets-wonder-pets-were-on-our-way.html' title='Wonder Pets Wonder Pets We&apos;re On Our Way'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-5477612118652102336</id><published>2007-06-21T23:35:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T00:00:47.474-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I Miss My Bed</title><content type='html'>I'm so tired, but yet I can't sleep.  Maybe I can't sleep because right now my side of the air mattress is taken up.  Yes I'm still sleeping on an air mattress.  We still have not found a house.  I'm very much contemplating living on post.  I really am.  Even though I do not want to, I think we may put ourselves on the wait list.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only bad thing about that though, my parents will have to go back home.  I know my dad is ready to.  He is tired of moving.  My mom, I'm not sure.  Trust me I feel very blessed that they have stayed with me.  They helped me get through two Iraq deployments.  Helped me with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;daughters&lt;/span&gt;.  My mom was the only one present when I delivered Emily.  So telling them they may have to go Home, will be hard.  But they do have a new Grand-daughter back home.  My niece, Emmy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, so I got off of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;original&lt;/span&gt; point there.  Forgive me, like I said I am tired.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways....they are building new houses on post and I've told Jeff to look into them.  Since we aren't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;guaranteed a long stabilization here, only 2 yrs, we aren't even thinking of buying a house.  Well you guys know our situation in Colorado.  So I've been looking at Rentals, and well after being in a house so long, I forgot what all you have to pay up front.  So......here we are.  6 of us....4 adults and 2 kids in a 1 bedroom/1 bath apartment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Is it sad that honestly all I really want to do is sleep in my own bed?  I haven't slept in my own bed since Feb 25, 2007.  That's almost 4 months.  Ugh I miss my bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;Sorry I'm all over the place.  This post is kind of woohoo out there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;But to all my friends in CO and AL.  I miss you guys.  Hugs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-5477612118652102336?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/5477612118652102336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=5477612118652102336' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5477612118652102336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5477612118652102336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/06/i-miss-my-bed.html' title='I Miss My Bed'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3739525147342865877</id><published>2007-06-10T01:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T01:32:40.868-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cherish</title><content type='html'>Every second and breath you have with your family and friends.  All in all, that fight you had today will just be a stupid memory tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Love everyone for who they are and not what they do.  We should not judge.&lt;br /&gt;Life is short.  Tell those that you love them today, don't wait until tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;Call that person today.  Hug them today.  Love them today.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Cherish&lt;/span&gt; them always.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3739525147342865877?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3739525147342865877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3739525147342865877' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3739525147342865877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3739525147342865877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/06/cherish.html' title='Cherish'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-2892531992139208320</id><published>2007-05-14T10:36:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T10:51:27.470-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day from Hexx</title><content type='html'>So here is the lovely story of my mother's day.  I will never ever forget this day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started out ok, the girls got me up early, but hey they are kids.&lt;br /&gt;We started making Mother's Day cards for my sister and a few other people.  My sister leaves for church and has to take my truck because her car has a flat.  No big deal.  She leaves.  Emiy is mad because Kellie didn't take her with her.  But she goes outside to play.  About 10 mins later I check on Emily and Allyson.  Emily is playing and Allyson is listening to my iPod.  I go back inside and work on the cards.  My b-i-l calls.  He tells me Happy Mother's Day and asks about our house.  He knows we are supposed to find out something soon.  We talk for a few minutes.   Allyson comes back in and is singing.  I go to check on Emily.  Remember I'm still on the phone.....Emily is gone.  I can't find the kid anywhere.  Allyson and I look for a good 30 minutes.  I am still on the phone.  My b-i-l tells me to get on the 4 wheeler, because remember my sister has my truck.  So I hang up with him, me and Allyson uncover the 4 wheeler.  The stupid tarp gets stuck around the tire and I can't go anywhere.  I just start hollering for Emily, still nothing.  Since so much time has passed I call 911.  The dispatcher was great.  Kept telling me things to calm me down.  They sent out 4 cops and a tracking dog.  I hang up and wait.  I cannot leave now.  Allyson at this point is crying.  I'm crying.  I'm on the phone with Jeff.  I scared the crap out of him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm watching the road, waiting for the cops.  I watch a red car go by, then I see a little speck.  Looks like Emiy's shirt she had on.  I hear screaming and crying.  IT'S EMILY!!!!!!!!!!  She comes running down the road screaming, "Mommy I got lost, I got lost".    I grab her and don't want to let go.  At this point everyone is crying.  Jeff talks to her on the phone.  I call the dispatcher back and tell him she has come back.  He asks if she needs an ambulance.  I tell him no, she doesn't even look dirty.  He tells me he is happy she has come back and everything is fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after I get her inside and calmed down, get myself calmed down, we have a little talk.  She apparently wanted to go see the cows.  My b-i-l's grandparents live maybe a 1/4 mile away and they have cows.  She thought that's where my sister went so she thought she would go too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had to be the worst and yet the best Mother's day.  The worst because Emily decided to go see cows and the best because she came back and was unharmed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of my kids seemed to be adventurous on this subject.  I know as a kid I never did that, but God knows Jeff did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-2892531992139208320?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/2892531992139208320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=2892531992139208320' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/2892531992139208320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/2892531992139208320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/05/mothers-day-from-hexx.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day from Hexx'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-9213619812292849923</id><published>2007-05-14T09:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T09:37:55.343-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My hair</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Park/P1010204.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Park/P1010204.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Park/P1010197.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Park/P1010197.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got it cut and highlighted. But as you all know I look horrible in pics. I seriously look like crap. So overlook me in the pics. Look at the hair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-9213619812292849923?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/9213619812292849923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=9213619812292849923' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/9213619812292849923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/9213619812292849923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-hair.html' title='My hair'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Park/th_P1010204.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-1009081496250670382</id><published>2007-05-13T07:52:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T08:07:26.743-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You</title><content type='html'>For some reason every time I go to write about Moms, I don't want to write about my own, I want to write about the friends, who for a long time seemed to be my mom.  They were the ones I cried to and talked to.  They were that shoulder to lean on.  Thanks you guys (you know who you are) for always being there for me.  Even though we are miles apart you guys still find ways to show me you still care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, my mom had her moments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child, she was a great Mom.  She always let us get away with more than she should.  It seemed like she never judged and was always on my side.  As the years have passed and I myself have become a mom, I look back and find myself saying Sorry a lot to my Mom.  Sorry for all the crap I gave her, for all the times I didn't listen, and for all the times I forgot to tell her I love You Mom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year I was unable to get my Mom that awesome Mother's day present.  She knows that times are tough right now.  But the girls and I sat down one day and we made her cards.  I let each one "write" their own saying to Mawmaw.  Allyson's said "I love you I miss you" she wrote each phrase 3 times.  Emily's....well if I could translate Emily's I think I might be a rich woman, because 3 yr olds seem to have their own language.  But still Emily wrote it, it was from her.  And I myself made one for my mom.  I found a really pretty quote and wrote it in there and we sent them off to her.   She called the other day.  She had received our cards.  She thanked each one of us.  Then when it was my turn, I ofcourse broke into the "Sorry we couldn't get you more, Mom" and she stopped me before I could get the full phrase out.   She said, "Did you make the cards?"  I said yes.  She said, "This is the best present."  She was crying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust me our times have not always been the greatest.  She is a great mom, but she has her moments like most.  She can drive a sane person insane.  But she's my Mom and I love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-1009081496250670382?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/1009081496250670382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=1009081496250670382' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1009081496250670382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1009081496250670382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/05/thank-you.html' title='Thank You'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4156809341549850130</id><published>2007-05-10T08:10:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-10T08:16:04.354-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Opinions Please</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So for some time I've wanted to do something with my hair. It's extremely long (to my bra strap now) and I normally just wear it pulled back because I can't get it to do anything because it wont hold curl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I've been looking through pictures online and these are what I have found. Tell me what you think please. I will be getting it cut and maybe highlighted (thankfully I have a friend here who does it for the cost of supplies). If you have pics, send them my way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RkMpBuumy_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/HhgwPSMOafg/s1600-h/reese-witherspoon-9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062935515794689010" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RkMpBuumy_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/HhgwPSMOafg/s200/reese-witherspoon-9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This one or&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RkMosuumy-I/AAAAAAAAAAo/IW-Eqx6Hn58/s1600-h/britney-spears-7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062935155017436130" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RkMosuumy-I/AAAAAAAAAAo/IW-Eqx6Hn58/s200/britney-spears-7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes I know it's Britney&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;but I like the style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4156809341549850130?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4156809341549850130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4156809341549850130' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4156809341549850130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4156809341549850130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/05/opinions-please.html' title='Opinions Please'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RkMpBuumy_I/AAAAAAAAAAw/HhgwPSMOafg/s72-c/reese-witherspoon-9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-2353187765171309532</id><published>2007-05-07T21:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T21:47:38.026-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cars</title><content type='html'>So today my sister had to run to the DayCare where she works to get her paycheck. I sit in the truck watching moms (yeah today it's just moms) go in and out. Picking up their kids, dropping off their kids. I start watching what they pull up in. One pulls up in a four door car, two more pull up and they are in two door bright yellow sporty cars. The funny thing, the girl who pulls up in the 4 door has one little girl, who looks like she is Allyson's age (6). The girls who pull up in 2 door sporty cars, look like they can be no more than 23yrs old. They each have two kids. One girl looks like she has a 3 yr old and maybe a 1yr old. Kind of hard to tell because the 1yr old is as big as she is. The other girl has one that looks maybe 6 months old and one that's probably 3yrs old. I sit there watching them struggle to get the infant car seats in their cars. They are hollering at the other kid because they are wondering off, tired of watiting. I start questioning, Why do people buy cars that don't suit their families? Seriously???? Everyone I know has a car that fits their family. Well let me take that back. Most people I know have cars that fit their families. My sister is trying to get financing so she can get a car that's easier for her with the baby. My cousin on the other hand, has 3 kids, all 3 of which still sit in boosters or toddler seats. The seats dont fit her back seat, but yet she refuses to get a car big enough. I asked her why. Her response was, I'm still young, I don't want to drive an old persons car. I want it to be cool. My truck (Durango) is, from what she has just defined, and old persons not cool car. That to me isn't what matters. To me what matters is if your kids fit and they are safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry I'm not sure why I'm venting, but today while I was out I watched as people got in and out of their cars with their kids. It's nuts. Some people just don't put thought into it I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-2353187765171309532?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/2353187765171309532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=2353187765171309532' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/2353187765171309532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/2353187765171309532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/05/cars.html' title='Cars'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4437476226463425504</id><published>2007-04-26T22:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T22:43:35.453-06:00</updated><title type='text'>At the end of the day....</title><content type='html'>I find myself, still a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister, and a friend.  Instead of whining I should be counting my blessings.  I have two beautiful, healthy daughters.  Even though they do drive me insane, they are mine and I love them.  I am a wife, to a great husband.  I Love Him more than he knows (cast and all).  I am a daughter, to parents whom right now, need me.  Not putting myself up on a pedestal, but it's true.  I am a sister and my sister is great.  I feel in some ways obligated to a lot of things with her because she is my little sister.  I want to take care of her and protect her.  I am a friend.  I hope my friends think I am a great friend.  I try to listen and not judge.  I try to be honest and caring.  I love them and I hope they love me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day......I'm counting my blessings for having them all in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4437476226463425504?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4437476226463425504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4437476226463425504' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4437476226463425504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4437476226463425504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/04/at-end-of-day.html' title='At the end of the day....'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-464986028082835131</id><published>2007-04-26T20:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T20:39:18.628-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired</title><content type='html'>This is a venting post.  I'm just tired.  Tired of being away from Jeff, tired of our house not selling, tired of living pay check to pay check.  Although honestly we are living beyond that.   Some how we have to come up with more money.  Our savings is almost gone.  I could get a job, don't get me wrong I would.  If I had someone for child care who didn't charge an arm and a leg I would be good and well if gas ran freely that would be even better.  I know there are some people reading this saying , well people do it every day.  Yes they do.  I know that.  I know there are a lot of single parents out there that do it every day and I praise them for that.  I have no college, my best paying job would be minimum wage.  I would be paying for gas and child care. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my family back.  I want my life back.  I want to not have to worry about selling a house.  I want my house back.  I miss my house.  I miss the security that came with the house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to give up.  I want to say I'm finished.  I want to be done.  I know there is a verse in the Bible where God says I will not give you more than you can bear.  Not to doubt God, but I'm starting to wonder what the limit is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just tired.  I know it can be worse, but the future has to be better, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-464986028082835131?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/464986028082835131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=464986028082835131' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/464986028082835131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/464986028082835131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/04/tired.html' title='Tired'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-17217615458483034</id><published>2007-04-11T22:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T23:01:14.524-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Is this Sad???</title><content type='html'>I actually miss my house.  I really do.  I miss cleaning it.  I miss it's smell.  I miss it's openess.  I miss my house.  It was my home for 2 1/5 yrs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I could imagine myself sitting in the loft watching tv.  The girls in their room, sleeping.  Allyson would have school tomorrow.  Jeff would also be in bed because he would have to work tomorrow.  We would be content, we would be happy, we would be a family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living here and there isn't easy.  Jeff even commented he was glad the girls and I didn't leave as planned.  And no I still didn't twist my ankle on purpose.  Which by the way the movers packed and delivered my crutches.  Life (and Army life at that) throws you curves.  You just have to take it and hope you hold it until the end.  I thought we were pretty prepared for the curves.  We saw them coming.  But nope.  Trust me nothing can plan you for lifes little bumps. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I first and foremost wanted to put my daughters first.  Which in many ways I thought I had.  I wanted to let Allyson finish school in my home state.  I wanted her to be among family.  At first this was great.  She gets along well with others, sometimes too well.  But that is Allyson.  That is her personality.  I can't change that.  Everything was going good until she told me she didn't want to live with my sister anymore.  For some reason she gets treated differently there.  It's hard to explain.  So I can't blame her.  It is my sister's house.  She has different rules that we do.  So she now has to follow two sets of rules and it frustrates her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily is however thriving.  She has a speech problem.  You can't understand her 75% of the time.  But since we've been back home, she makes sentences.   Sings the Alphabet and numbers with Allyson.  She can draw spiders, which is important to her.  She comes around with her little notepad asking you "What you want to eat?" and pretends like she is writing it down.  I hope that's not for a future job in waitressing.  LOL.  So as a mom who wants nothing but the best for her kids, what is she to do? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found out today what unit hubby is with.  But was also told the slot was only for a year.  A year?  Come on.  He was told most stay here two years, but that's about it.  Come on, now.  I know I shouldn't be complaining at all.  But we planned for more than a year.  We were told 3. &lt;br /&gt;Ugh.  Anyways...he will be an instuctor.  He will actually teach in the same building he went to school in while he was here, 7 yrs ago.  He seems pretty happy about it.  But we will see.  He likes the fact that he doesn't have to do PT at the butt crack of dawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's more to follow, but I just realized it's 1am.  I must sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs to all and please forgive the whining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-17217615458483034?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/17217615458483034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=17217615458483034' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/17217615458483034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/17217615458483034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/04/is-this-sad.html' title='Is this Sad???'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-7983930487893697947</id><published>2007-04-11T13:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-04-11T13:55:48.506-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate moving</title><content type='html'>It isn't a fun experience at all.  Even when someone else does move you.  It just isn't fun.  Our household goods had been packed up for about a month before we actually got them.  Well since our lovely house in CO hasn't sold yet, my hubby had to get an apartment.  Yay fun.  I hate apartments about as much as I hate moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...we go from a 3 bedroom 2 bath home to a 1 bedroom 1 bath apt.  Our stuff isn't fitting.  We had to have it delivered to a storage building.  Everything was going ok until half way through the day when I realized my lovely hubby didn't get a big enough storage building.  I could have beat the crap out of him and almost did.  We had to go talk to the very nice and understanding lady about hubby being dingy, and we got upgraded to a bigger building.  Upside....all of our stuff will fit.  Downside.....we now have to move all of our crap out of the one storage building to the bigger one.  We were at the storage building from 8am till 12am Midnite.  I'm a little upset and very tired.  But relieved.  We have all of our stuff moved. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the next few days we begin the long process of digging through boxes unpacking crap we need now and taking back crap we can't fit.  They dented the top of my dryer.  How I don't know.  My washing machine now leaks when you put water in it.  My dining room table is broken.   Oh and the big screen tv, broken.  How can they break so much crap?  Ugh, so mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't went into great detail about my first day in GA.  Right now, I'm too mad to go that far.  But you get the idea of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please say a prayer that our house sells.  Too much longer of trying to live in three cities and our family will be living in the street in boxes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-7983930487893697947?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/7983930487893697947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=7983930487893697947' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7983930487893697947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7983930487893697947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-hate-moving.html' title='I hate moving'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-7222731648888740693</id><published>2007-03-03T23:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-03T23:19:44.984-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fortune cookies</title><content type='html'>One reads, "You are kind and trustworthy by nature."&lt;br /&gt;Another reads, "You will always have good luck in your personal affairs."&lt;br /&gt;The last reads, "You will find great contentment in the daily, routine activities."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good pick me ups for the end of the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-7222731648888740693?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/7222731648888740693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=7222731648888740693' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7222731648888740693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7222731648888740693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/03/fortune-cookies.html' title='Fortune cookies'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-8792829931083779563</id><published>2007-03-02T00:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T00:49:44.892-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Air mattress sleeping.............</title><content type='html'>is it for you?????  Because it's not for me.  I don't know how much more my poor butt can take.  I think I'm losing air now as I type.  Gotta love moving.  I keep saying it over and over again, but I still don't believe it.  Can you believe I'm still in denial?  There have been a few moments over the past couple of days that I start balling like a baby, but to feel like I'm actually leaving and wont be returning in a couple weeks, well that just hasn't hit me yet.  Someone told me today to hope it doesn't hit me until we are back home.  That way the 1500 mile drive wont seem to drag on.  I will admit, I don't like Colorado.  I'm not a city girl.  I'm a country girl.  Ask anyone who knows me.  I still have my accent.  LOL.  But I'm going to miss the most wonderful friends a person could ask for.  They are the absolute greatest people in the world and I hope they know that.  For those of you who are fellow Army wives will know that making friends and keeping them while in the Army isn't an easy task.  So to have the many friends I have is a true blessing.  I love you guys and will truly miss you.  You are my Family. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting mushy here and I need to inflate my air mattress again one more time before I go to sleep.  Hugs to all my friends.  Love ya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-8792829931083779563?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/8792829931083779563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=8792829931083779563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8792829931083779563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8792829931083779563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/03/air-mattress-sleeping.html' title='Air mattress sleeping.............'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-8626855299819370058</id><published>2007-02-26T16:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T17:06:16.342-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boxes boxes everywhere and not a box to pack</title><content type='html'>Yeah I know, corny, but hey I'm tired.  That's what happens when you're told your packers will be at your house at 8am, but don't show till 9am.  Not a biggie though.  They packed up everything in 5 hours.  So.....I can't really complain.   I am, however, already tired of the seeing the boxes sitting around everywhere.  I want to unpack them, lol.  The girls are "bored out of our minds" as Allyson puts it.  I just wanna take a nap.  Which my lovely hubby of 7 yrs today, is doing.  Gotta love moving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-8626855299819370058?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/8626855299819370058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=8626855299819370058' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8626855299819370058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8626855299819370058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/02/boxes-boxes-everywhere-and-not-box-to.html' title='Boxes boxes everywhere and not a box to pack'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-5865868965474668754</id><published>2007-02-22T01:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T01:15:40.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So today was a day of denial......</title><content type='html'>The mover surveyor came today to see how much stuff we have. PCSing is not going to be fun. Everything was going fine until he saw our garage. We have a lot of stuff in our garage. Tools, tools, and more tools. Let's hope the stinkin' garage doesn't put us over on our weight limit. If it does, it will totally suck.&lt;br /&gt;But anyways.....we have our moving dates. Yes I said dates. It could take more than one day to pack us up. It just so happens that we will be spending our 7th wedding anniversary following people around our who whom are packing us up. Yay lots of fun! NOT.&lt;br /&gt;So yeah lots of fun stuff is on our way for the next few days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-5865868965474668754?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/5865868965474668754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=5865868965474668754' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5865868965474668754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5865868965474668754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/02/so-today-was-day-of-denial.html' title='So today was a day of denial......'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-1710794882466136979</id><published>2007-02-17T11:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-17T11:51:35.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sick kiddo</title><content type='html'>So for the past 3 days, Allyson has been sick.  Really really sick.  She scared me.   The other nite she went to sleep around 8:30pm.  Jeff went to bed, I stayed up.  All of a sudden Jeff comes running out of the room screaming, "You gotta get in here, Allyson is sick."  Poor kid is throwing up everywhere.  She's crying, saying "Mommy please help me."  My mom and I seem to be the only ones who have strong enough stomachs to handle this.  I hear Jeff behind me almost get sick.  Anyways......I move Allyson to the loft with me so I can watch her.  She lays down, her skin is cold.  Her complexion is what scares me.  If you have ever seen a person who has died, that's what her skin looked like.   I watch her till 4 in the morning.  She keeps talking to me, asking me why this is happening to her?  How can she make it stop?  I felt so bad and helpless.   Thankfully she was able to sleep the rest of the nite.   She hasn't gotten sick in 24 hours, so I hope it's over.  Poor kid looks horrible.  But I think she is getting back to her normal self.  She was rolling through the hallway a minute ago hollering, "my tummy doesn't hurt."  LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-1710794882466136979?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/1710794882466136979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=1710794882466136979' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1710794882466136979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1710794882466136979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/02/sick-kiddo.html' title='Sick kiddo'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4933882193871503763</id><published>2007-02-16T01:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T01:05:58.696-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How about snow for Valentine's????</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3667.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3667.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3672.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3672.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3669.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3669.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So as we were headed to Allyson's Valentine's party I took pictures of the snow.  I think it's so pretty how it is stuck to the trees.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4933882193871503763?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4933882193871503763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4933882193871503763' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4933882193871503763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4933882193871503763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/02/how-about-snow-for-valentines.html' title='How about snow for Valentine&apos;s????'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-1251713661814938453</id><published>2007-02-16T00:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T01:02:42.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Allyson's way........</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3665.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3665.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3663.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3663.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We made Allyson's Valentines. I saw a similar idea online, but I had to change it up a bit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had a blast at her party. It's funny to watch kids with Valentine's. It's like they personally pick out which Valentine go to a certain kid. Allyson's Valentine's all looked the same. No kidding. But as she was putting them into her classmates bags, she kept saying, "No mommy that one doesn't go there it goes here." LOL. Kids gotta love them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-1251713661814938453?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/1251713661814938453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=1251713661814938453' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1251713661814938453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1251713661814938453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/02/valentines-homemade-waylol.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Allyson&apos;s way........'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-49905870848292879</id><published>2007-02-09T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T10:53:12.709-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going to be an Aunt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3635.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3635.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3613.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3613.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3637.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3637.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3634.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/IMG_3634.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm pretty excited. We are going to do my sister's shower when I go back home for a couple weeks. I made the shower invitations and wanted to share.  &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/8318523011727220821-49905870848292879?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/49905870848292879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=49905870848292879' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/49905870848292879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/49905870848292879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/02/going-to-be-aunt.html' title='Going to be an Aunt'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4687966895021507736</id><published>2007-02-07T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T10:53:12.796-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's the World coming to?</title><content type='html'>I've been reading the news online lately.  Yesterday I read about a RN who molested two male patients while they were under anesthesia.  He didn't give a reason for doing it.  He just did it.  These are supposed to be people we trust.  I mean come on they are supposed to be taking care of you while you are in the hospital and this guy takes advantage of it.  He even admitted to giving the patients more medicine than they needed to keep them out longer.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we move on to the people that are using stun guns and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;tazers&lt;/span&gt; as disciplinary tools.  HELLO.  Let me take a stun gun to your butt and see how much you like it.  One guy used it on his wife's grandmother and the other used it on his 18 month old son.  The baby is 18 months old come on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next comes the astronaut who drives 900 miles in a diaper because she is in love with a man who is in love with another woman.  She decides this other woman needs to be out of the picture.  The astronaut has 3 kids for Pete's sake.  Lady take care of your kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of us probably watched the Super Bowl.  Well yesterday I saw where Snickers is removing the commercial they showed during the Super Bowl.  It features two guys kissing and then ripping their chest hair out to be "manly".   Gay activists did not like the commercial so now they have come up with an alternate ending and all this other stuff.  Well personally, I don't like the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Orbitz&lt;/span&gt; commercial.  They normally only show it late at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;nite&lt;/span&gt;.  If you haven't seen the commercial it shows two women kissing at the end of it.  I don't like the commercial.  Never have, probably never will.  Oh well my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you have to talk about Prince's half time show.  Now people are saying there was more to it.  I watched the half time show.  Yeah some of the show was weird, when they had the sheet blowing and he was playing behind it.  Some people just look to far into it.  Before too long there isn't going to be a half time show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'm going to stop ranting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffffff"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4687966895021507736?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4687966895021507736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4687966895021507736' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4687966895021507736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4687966895021507736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/02/whats-world-coming-to.html' title='What&apos;s the World coming to?'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-5115054128487513093</id><published>2007-02-01T00:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-01T01:09:40.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So.............</title><content type='html'>my ankle is hurting and I can't sleep, so here I sit.  For those of you who want to build upper body strength in your arms, use some crutches.  I keep joking that I could probably bench press my own weight right now.  I almost believe it.  For the first couple days man my arms ached.  They absolutely hurt to move.  But over the week I've been on these things, my arms no longer hurt.  And well my one legged balance has improved.  I can make a bed hopping on one foot.  LOL.  But I don't suggest it.  I fell against the bed rail earlier and of course hit my ankle.  Gotta love that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways....a few days ago we found my sister is having a little girl.  I'm excited for her.  I'm a very proud soon to be aunt.  I've already made up baby shower invitations.  And we've been helping her try to pick out a name.  So far she has settled on Emerson.  No one seems to like it, but me.  LOL.  She only has about 3 1/2 months left until the baby is here.  Hard to believe how much time flies.  But soon we will be going home to help her out for awhile.  So......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I need to go and try to get some sleep.  Hopefully Jeff wont kick me in the leg tonite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hugs to all&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-5115054128487513093?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/5115054128487513093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=5115054128487513093' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5115054128487513093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5115054128487513093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/02/so.html' title='So.............'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-1313414234809290924</id><published>2007-01-31T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T10:37:52.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Store leveled</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RcDT4Xg07LI/AAAAAAAAAAY/XAmmXtmuLk0/s1600-h/lg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026250149483310258" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RcDT4Xg07LI/AAAAAAAAAAY/XAmmXtmuLk0/s320/lg.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;GHENT — Four people killed and five more injured were the tragic statistics compiled Tuesday after a violent propane explosion destroyed a local convenience store along Route 19.At approximately 10:43 a.m., employees at the Little General Store reported a gas leak, Sterling Lewis, of the West Virginia State Fire Marshal’s Office, told reporters gathered at the Ghent Area Volunteer Fire Department.Then at 10:55 a.m., there was an explosion, Lewis said.Fire units, ambulances and law enforcement quickly converged on the scene near the entrance to the Flat Top Lake community and found devastation. Lewis said it was as if an explosion had destroyed a home and left only “tooth picks.”The explosion affected approximately 100 square yards surrounding the store. Four people including a Ghent fire fighter and an EMT worker responding to the initial gas leak call were among the people killed, Lewis said.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Every time we go home, we pass by this way. It's very weird to think that this happened back home. And in such a small town. But it just goes to show you that this kind of thing happens any where. The one thing about that though, this small community will be with those families who lost loved ones. They will bring dinner, they will check on them everyday. That's how families back home in small towns do it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is very sad. I pray for the families back home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-1313414234809290924?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/1313414234809290924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=1313414234809290924' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1313414234809290924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/1313414234809290924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/01/store-leveled.html' title='Store leveled'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RcDT4Xg07LI/AAAAAAAAAAY/XAmmXtmuLk0/s72-c/lg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4301760055020431015</id><published>2007-01-21T16:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-21T16:51:47.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Country roads take me home......</title><content type='html'>to the place I belong, West Virginia, Mountain Mama, take me home country roads."   For anyone who knows any John Denver songs you've probably heard this one a few times.  Well for the last 5 yrs almost 6 we've lived here in Colorado.  Yeah there's another John Denver song playing in your head now, but anyways.....I've never heard the Country Roads song on the radio out here ever.  Today, on this lovely snowy freezing your butt off day, I go to the store to get potatoes.  We've seemed to have ran out.  On my way back home I'm singing along to the radio and guess what comes on????  John Denver singing the West Virginia song. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for those of you who know me, know I'm having a hard time with us leaving (PCSing).  You also know that Jeff and I don't have the same game plan.  He wants me and the girls to go to WV in Feb and stay there until the end of the school year.  I however do not.  I want to be able to stay here as long as possible then leave.  I guess it all depends on our household goods being shipped and our house actually selling.  I'm trying not to get discouraged about that.  This coming Thursday only makes 2 weeks of it being up for sale.  But no one has come to look at it.  Our realtor says it's the weather, which I'm sure plays apart in it.  Because me personally I wouldn't want to be out in this crap looking for a house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today also makes day 3 of my no caffenine.  I'm trying to cut back on the pop or soda drinking.  I usually can drink anywhere from 5 to 10 cans a day, no problem.  In the last 3 days all I've had it 3 cans.  So it's a big difference.  But I do already feel better.  I weighed myself the nite I started.  I weighed in at 164.  Today I weigh 158.  I was a little surprised, but I guess if you cut out all those carbs it makes a difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I see I have gotten off of the subject.  So for now I'm signing off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4301760055020431015?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4301760055020431015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4301760055020431015' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4301760055020431015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4301760055020431015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/01/country-roads-take-me-home.html' title='&quot;Country roads take me home......'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-5764965912238299043</id><published>2007-01-18T23:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T23:36:33.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Honor the Fallen</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Army Sgt. Jay R. Gauthreaux, 26&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;, of Thibodaux, La.; assigned to the 3rd Heavy Brigade Combat Team, 1st Cavalry Division, Fort Hood, Texas; died Dec. 4 in Balad, Iraq, of injuries sustained in Baqubah, Iraq, when in improvised explosive device detonated near his vehicle while on patrol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SGT Gauthreaux was Jeff's replacement on the Brigade MITT Team.  He found out today that SGT Gauthreaux was killed.  It's been over a month since he was killed.  It's bothering Jeff pretty badly.  He knew this guy.  He worked with this guy.  Not even a month after Jeff came home, SGT Gauthreaux was killed.  He had the very same job as Jeff.  He even took over the gunner position Jeff left.  Jeff said he talked to him about a lot of stuff, like how to make points for promotion and things like that.  SGT Gauthreaux had a 4 yr old son.  To Jeff I guess it hits too close to home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know what to say.  I just hugged him, told him I could never imagine how he feels because these soldiers develop a bond when they go to war together.  They become brothers.  In fact Jeff's unit was called "Band of Brothers".  Words can never truly express how deeply sorry we are for his family's loss.  And to his son who will only remember him through photographs and stories.  This is sad.  It's so sad that another soldier had to die. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Memory of SGT Jay R Gauthreaux&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-5764965912238299043?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/5764965912238299043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=5764965912238299043' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5764965912238299043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5764965912238299043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/01/honor-fallen.html' title='Honor the Fallen'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-8206416733530592653</id><published>2007-01-17T11:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T11:43:37.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire</title><content type='html'>Last nite I went to pick my mom up from work for my dad. As I stood in line at the check out counter waiting on my mom, there was a man in front of me. I couldn't help but to hear the conversation he was having with the cashier. See there was an apartment fire the other nite. A lot of people lost their homes and everything they had. He was one of them. The funny thing about his conversation, was he wasn't complaining at all. He kept saying he was so thankful he got out and without being injured. Not everyone was so lucky. Some people had to jump from the 3rd story to the ground. Some broke bones. Somes just got scratches and bruises. But everyone lost their homes. They still don't know the extent of the damage or if anyone died. From what we are being told, the apartment building is still burning. Today in the Springs it's only 30 degrees and thats at almost noon. When the fire broke out it was close to 1am. And a whole lot colder than it is now. I can't even imagine what was going through the peoples heads as some had to jump. Some with kids and newborns. It's so scary to think about. Just pray that the people from the buildings find a new home and a new start.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-8206416733530592653?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/8206416733530592653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=8206416733530592653' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8206416733530592653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8206416733530592653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/01/fire.html' title='Fire'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-8987738088147862965</id><published>2007-01-11T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T20:38:25.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Warning:  Whining post</title><content type='html'>Maybe I'm just tired, I don't know.  I feel like everything I used to know and feel comfortable with is gone.  Maybe it's because I am moving, I don't know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-8987738088147862965?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/8987738088147862965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=8987738088147862965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8987738088147862965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8987738088147862965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/01/warning-whining-post.html' title='Warning:  Whining post'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-6275784419911712164</id><published>2007-01-11T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T19:18:05.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's official</title><content type='html'>Our house in on the market.  I saw it on a website and about cried.  Jeff and I sat there and stared at the picture like it was ebay or something.  Kind of funnny, but so sad at the same moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there it is.  All ready to sale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-6275784419911712164?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/6275784419911712164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=6275784419911712164' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/6275784419911712164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/6275784419911712164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/01/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s official'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-7290824963791993560</id><published>2007-01-10T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T19:16:22.502-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home for Sale</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RaSSWHg07KI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u5nwlshHqAs/s1600-h/Our-House.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5018296793469086882" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RaSSWHg07KI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u5nwlshHqAs/s320/Our-House.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The lock box has been placed on the front door. The pictures and 360 degree tours have been taken. Our house will officially be on the market for sell tomorrow. WOW. I'm excited, scared, and worried all at the same time. Excited because we will be closer to home. Scared because I'm a planner. And well being that my hubby is in the Army, I can't plan to the best of my ability. And I'm worried, well, worried because hey "What if our house doesn't sell?" Ugh. I've been keeping up with homes in our area. There is another house almost exactly like ours, but has too much wall paper going on. It's selling for less, so that scares me. But at the same time, it doesn't because well we have a finished garage. Yeah call me crazy, well call my hubby and my dad crazy, but yes our garage is finished and well it does look pretty cool. They are calling it the "Mechanics Dream". It is after all painted Craftsman colors. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will miss this house. It sounds crazy now that I've said it out loud. But I will. I will miss my room. I love my room. It's huge. I will miss it's roominess. Well I will just miss it altogether. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mind is roaming. It's going in a thousand different directions, so before I go off track, I'm closing my post.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pray that our home sells. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-7290824963791993560?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/7290824963791993560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=7290824963791993560' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7290824963791993560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7290824963791993560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2007/01/home-for-sell.html' title='Home for Sale'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/RaSSWHg07KI/AAAAAAAAAAM/u5nwlshHqAs/s72-c/Our-House.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-4664338191033330879</id><published>2006-12-22T02:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T02:59:40.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This sucks.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02712-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02712-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02752.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02752.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02731.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02731.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02717-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02717-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02745.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/DSC02745.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't sleep. It's almost 3 am. I've tried everything to make myself go to sleep and well here I sit. I guess my mind doesn't want to shut down. Too much going through it right now. LOL It can't handle it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyways......Colorado was hit with a "blizzard". In all honesty, I've seen worse. But I still like the snow. Here are some pictures from the blizzard. We went "riding" or should I say 4 wheeling? But we took the pictures of our journey. It was nice getting out of the house since we had been cooped up for a couple days. So enjoy the pics. And wherever you are I hope you are WARM.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-4664338191033330879?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/4664338191033330879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=4664338191033330879' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4664338191033330879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/4664338191033330879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/12/this-sucks.html' title='This sucks.....'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/Snow%20days/th_DSC02712-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-8369975770215044295</id><published>2006-12-18T02:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-18T02:46:45.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I love to paint......</title><content type='html'>but there is also a point where I hate it.  Like right now.  We just finished painting our garage and I just finished repainting the girls bathroom.  The highlight of the last couple days has got to be me stepping on a piece of wire.  Yeah I was walking like any normal person does and boom a wire sticks about an inch and half into my foot.  Gotta love that.  So now I have a knot and bruise and a nice hobbling walk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways....got off the subject.  Why is it when you buy a house it seems like you wait till the last possible minute to do anything and everything you wanted to do to it?????  Yeah we bought our house 2 yrs ago.  I love my house.  I will miss it when we sell it.  If we sell it.  When we bought it we had all these plans.  Did we do them???  No.  Not until now.  Now that the time has come to sell it.  So for the next two weeks, painting and fixing stuff up is all we are going to be doing.  Yay fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well enough whining for one nite I guess.  Time to go get some rest before the next fun day of painting begins.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-8369975770215044295?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/8369975770215044295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=8369975770215044295' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8369975770215044295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8369975770215044295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-love-to-paint.html' title='I love to paint......'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3465481680331652568</id><published>2006-12-06T01:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T02:01:19.738-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Been awhile....</title><content type='html'>It's been awhile since I came in here to write.  A lot has happened.  My hubby came back home from Iraq and it's been an adjustment.  But we are getting there.  Christmas is right around the corner.  It's so hard to believe it's already here.  Wow!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also found out we are heading back east.  I'm excited and sad at the same time.   I will be leaving my friends whom have become my family.  I will miss them all greatly.  But on the up side we will be 5 hours away from home.  From my sister, who is having a baby next year, and all of my cousins. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be back to write more.  Just gotta get my thoughts sorted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3465481680331652568?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3465481680331652568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3465481680331652568' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3465481680331652568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3465481680331652568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/12/been-awhile.html' title='Been awhile....'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-542554898312433710</id><published>2006-10-24T22:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T22:54:09.558-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Just plain tired...........</title><content type='html'>of trying to please people.  This is just so stupid.  I've been the people &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;pleaser&lt;/span&gt; for too long.  I'm afraid to be that person that no one likes.  We all know that we like to be liked.  It's in our nature.  And we all know some people are liked more than others.  We experienced that in High school.  Well in high school I was on the outside looking in.  I hated it.  I was always the one helping out with this or that.  Just to try to get approval.  You know to be "cool".  It's honestly not worth it.  At all.&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to raise my daughters not to look at physical appearance and not to judge people by it.  Yeah they are only 5 and 3, but my 5 yr old has already experienced this in Kindergarten.  How sad is that???  They made fun of her just because she wore glasses.  She doesn't like to wear them any more.  Who could blame her? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt; so I kind of got of the main topic.  But hey it all runs together, right?  I think it's all kind of sad that some of us still act like we are in high school.  I mean the whole I'm not your friend because you are friends with her kind of thing.  How stupid is it.  It's childish.  Even if my 5 yr old has a fight with her friend and says hey I'm not your friend anymore, not more than 5 minutes later are they playing and having a good ole time.  Ugh I just don't understand.  I really don't. &lt;br /&gt;So anyways.........today I have decided I am no longer a People &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Pleaser&lt;/span&gt;.  Now watch tomorrow it will be back to the same old me again.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;.  But at least for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;tonite&lt;/span&gt; I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;rebelling&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-542554898312433710?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/542554898312433710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=542554898312433710' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/542554898312433710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/542554898312433710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/10/just-plain-tired.html' title='Just plain tired...........'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-8278804315048737743</id><published>2006-10-18T00:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T00:51:44.997-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC01882.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/DSC01882.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yep you guessed it.  It snowed today.  Here are my little ones playing in it.  Gotta love the snow.&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/8318523011727220821-8278804315048737743?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/8278804315048737743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=8278804315048737743' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8278804315048737743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/8278804315048737743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/10/snow.html' title='Snow'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-5212645765495581407</id><published>2006-10-17T22:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T22:55:14.994-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Friend because of a Friend</title><content type='html'>It's a record two posts in one day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways......so today my thoughts seem to run to friends.  We've all had one of these friends.  They are your friend because you share a mutal friend.  Sorry, but I really don't like that.  If the only reason why you hung out with me was because we had a mutal friend, then you really aren't a friend.  Recently I found out I had a few of these "friends".   It made me kind of sad to find this out, because for my own reasons I did admire these people.  Obviously I was only a "friend" because of a friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry this blog is kind of out there.  Just letting the friends know that I have, I wont be that kind of "friend".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-5212645765495581407?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/5212645765495581407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=5212645765495581407' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5212645765495581407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/5212645765495581407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/10/friend-because-of-friend.html' title='Friend because of a Friend'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-3760381404699530977</id><published>2006-10-17T14:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T15:39:39.180-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What is a friend?</title><content type='html'>I've been pondering the question.  Not really sure why.  So guess what?  I googled it LOL.  Here is what I found out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  a person you know well and regard with affection and trust&lt;br /&gt;2.  ally: an associate who provides assistance&lt;br /&gt;3.  supporter: a person who backs a politician or a team etc&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friendship is a type of interpersonal relationship that is found among humans and among animals with rich intelligence, such as the higher mammals and some birds. Individuals in a friendship relationship will seek out each other's company and exhibit mutually helping behavior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like the last sentence there.  We seek out each other's company.   Honestly during the first part of this deployment I wanted to hide out.  I wanted the year to go by without hearing anything bad happening on the news.  I wanted to sleep the year away if at all possible.  I would have went insane.  Here lately I have been seeking out my friends.  Some of us see each other almost every day.  If we can't, we call, i/m, or email each other.  It's sad to say, but I have friends that call, email, and i/m more than family do.  In my eyes, my friends have become my family.   We have a new bond.  We are sisters in a way.  We will always be connected to each other because we are Army wives.  They are there to pick you up when you have fallen.  They are there to lend an ear for venting or a shoulder to cry on.  And soon, they will be the hand I hold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words can not and probably never will express how grateful I am to have these friends in my life.  You girls know who you are.  I Love You guys.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-3760381404699530977?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/3760381404699530977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=3760381404699530977' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3760381404699530977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/3760381404699530977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/10/what-is-friend.html' title='What is a friend?'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-7398668218739864795</id><published>2006-10-10T13:30:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T14:06:15.100-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/NewRiverGorgeBridge2.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/thBOS2006Disc4055.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/thBOS2006Disc4055.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today seems to be a Missing My Home day. Right now I can see the leaves changing colors and falling to the ground. I miss that time of year. Yeah in CO we have trees and yes they do change colors, but if you all could go with me back home to WV and see where I used to live, you would understand why I miss it so much. In the Fall season the state is covered in colors. It's not just a here and there type of thing. It's everywhere. So here are some pictures. Enjoy the scenery.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/thDCP_0078.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/thDCP_0078.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/NewRiverGorgeBridge2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b355/traciec19/NewRiverGorgeBridge2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-7398668218739864795?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/7398668218739864795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=7398668218739864795' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7398668218739864795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/7398668218739864795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/10/missing-home.html' title='Missing Home'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8318523011727220821.post-736567245819693409</id><published>2006-10-09T16:34:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T16:37:52.634-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Yeah so......</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;I've started this whole blog thing to rant and rave.  Which by the way I love to do.  LOL.  Thanks to a certain friend (she knows who she is) who turned me on to this.  I believe it will help me release stress that I tend to keep bottled up.  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm still learning all the stuff, so my blog isnt too cute yet, but give me time and it will be.  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So now I'm off to "enjoy" the rest of my day so I will have something to blog about later.  :)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8318523011727220821-736567245819693409?l=traciec19.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/feeds/736567245819693409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8318523011727220821&amp;postID=736567245819693409' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/736567245819693409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8318523011727220821/posts/default/736567245819693409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traciec19.blogspot.com/2006/10/yeah-so.html' title='Yeah so......'/><author><name>Tracie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02114370158420145349</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_GDASh1gWhIs/R75fGzmd5wI/AAAAAAAAABE/-NRLy_j15B0/S220/profilepic2.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
