<?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-9039801796514150049</id><updated>2012-02-02T10:18:09.827-06:00</updated><category term='women'/><category term='hormones'/><category term='friendship'/><category term='bali'/><category term='emotions'/><category term='elizabeth gilbert'/><category term='eat pray love'/><category term='soul'/><category term='heaven'/><category term='men'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='beauty'/><category term='winter'/><category term='hell'/><category term='snow'/><category term='love'/><category term='heart'/><category term='ketut'/><title type='text'>Bex Life</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>214</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4743960163168166836</id><published>2012-01-29T23:23:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T23:23:02.758-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is sight</title><content type='html'>I've been going through a rough patch, well that's an understatement I've been ping through the hardest time I've ever had in my short simple existence. I'm not sure why it's been so hard actually. Pain seems to be just under the surface of my being at every moment. Partly it is due to heartache. The rest of my bleak outlook is due to regular life stress, money, work, bills etc. Somehow regular life stress is so much harder when you are suffering through loneliness. Anyways onto the point of this blog....&lt;br /&gt;I'll sum up really quickly what happened over the summer. I started working at a local restaurant in May in July I started falling in love with one o the bartenders and in September he or was it really I broke my heart. The first time he kissed me he told me he had wanted to kiss me from the first moment he saw me. He told me for the first few months he kept trying to get me to look at him and I never saw him. And he was right. Of course I literally saw him but I didn't SEE him. I remember the moment I did actually see him he quoted a line from a song and I said the next line he looked up at me and I saw him. I saw straight into his eyes past the surface and into his depth. Which of course scared me because the last time I saw someone like that was of course Adam and we know how that turned out. So for the next month I talked to the bartender and really grew to like the bartender but I kept my walls up quite high. Until one night a server told me the bartender was crazy about me and then we went out for waffles at one AM. This however was not the kiss moment that came a month later on my birthday weekend which by the way was the best present I ever could have dreamed for. &lt;br /&gt;Of course the end of this story is all too common it ended in my heart getting broken followed by several not so proud moments. Anyways moving on with this blog. &lt;br /&gt;I would like to reference my favorite fantasy novelist Ursula LeGuinn in her series the wizard of earth sea she talks about how a persons true name is where they hold their true self and in knowing a persons true name gave you control over that person. Now let's take a line from Shakespeare "journey's end in lovers meeting" Now (as I am proving myself as human as the rest of us I am interpreting something to fit my needs) knowing a persons true self does in fact give you power over that person buy here's the catch when you get to know someone truly it is impossible to not let your own walls down and let them know you too. And when shakespeare said "journeys end in lovers meeting" how else do you know besides seeing that person. My point to LeGuinn is this once you see someone, once you know someone, I'm coming to the conclusion that it is impossible not to SEE them even when you wish you didn't and there is still a part of them that sees you. Isn't that part of the deal when you let someone get close to you, they have the ability to hurt you more than anyone else in the world just like you can in turn hurt them.  I guess that's the risk. And the point that LeGuinn makes that we should guard our hearts and only let select few into them so that our soft caring organ gets as few bumps bruises and breaks along the way. &lt;br /&gt;Well for the moment this heart has lost the point of the blog and is going to tuck her tired little self into fluffy chocolate colored blankets and rest for as long as she possibly can. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4743960163168166836?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4743960163168166836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4743960163168166836' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4743960163168166836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4743960163168166836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2012/01/it-is-sight.html' title='it is sight'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6835109284120770028</id><published>2012-01-09T15:23:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T15:23:33.007-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is shakespeare</title><content type='html'>To quote Irving Berlin "The theatre, the theatre, what has happened to the theatre?" Tonight I am visiting my sister and brother in Atlanta, GA and to begin my whirl-wind trip we went to see some Shakespeare. As I was sitting there enjoying the whit of The Merchant of Venice I was struck by several things. Firstly I'm grateful my parents raised me reading Geoffrey of Mounmoth, Homer, the King James Bible and the like so that Elizabethan tongue is not so hard for me to adapt to. Secondly I remembered why I did not pursue theater. And thirdly we really haven't changed much over the centuries. The play was riddled with issues that we still see today, racism, fidelity, loneliness, business investments, high interest rate loans, religion, horrible bosses, rebellion, love, alcoholism, catty women and the like. Shakespeare being the genius that he was tapped into the classic problems that have plagued man since the beginning of time. I witnessed last night; a conversation held by Hitler stating that Christian blood is holier than Jewish blood, a court case sentencing a man for attempted murder, the unwanted attentions of suitors that the woman feigned to protest but secretly loved the adoration, the wasted attempt to tell people that love is a right that is earned not a reward that is given, and a scene from the "Real Housewives" series as the women attempted to trick their men into infidelity. &lt;br /&gt;Yes, yes Shakespeare was quite the genius. And it's good to know the world doesn't really ever change, just the language does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6835109284120770028?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6835109284120770028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6835109284120770028' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6835109284120770028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6835109284120770028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2012/01/it-is-shakespeare.html' title='it is shakespeare'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3722613938465797901</id><published>2012-01-01T10:38:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T10:44:30.806-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a new year</title><content type='html'>(quick note - I do have a Christmas blog that will be posted at a later date) &lt;br /&gt;Well Happy New Year everyone!!! I spent the evening carting my very drunk boss around KC. Needless to say it was an interesting evening but all has turned out well and she is now safely tucked in her own bed. This morning I stopped at one of the millions of local Panera's to grab a quick lunch before I head off to work at the gym. I am in the "upper" class region of the suburbs and am surrounded by a bunch of stuffed shirts. There is a table of 4 socialite want-to-be retired people. They seem to be getting their kicks out of talking about when it is proper to use salted butter versus non-salted butter. Talking about all the things that "common" people do that they are incapable of doing because it is either unsanitary or improper. One such "commoner" activity is public transport. This woman couldn't go 1 block before her husband, dashing to her rescue, figures out a way to remove the window pane to allow fresh air to aid his poor wife. He seemed quite proud of himself for destroying public property. They also are getting quite a rise out of talking about people who are dumber than they. My favorite comment however has to be "Oh she is dumb, but I quite enjoy her company" Which was followed by a chorus of "me too".&lt;br /&gt;Oh well it might be a new year but it's good to know that the world hasn't changed. It is still full of arrogant imbeciles who think they know all the answers to life's questions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year! May it be better than the last and may you stick to all your resolutions! Mine this year is to stop procrastinating. As a friend of mine pointed out..."So you waited until new years to begin?" yes yes I know I am an arrogant imbecile as well, at least I'm not alone in the world. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3722613938465797901?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3722613938465797901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3722613938465797901' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3722613938465797901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3722613938465797901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2012/01/it-is-new-year.html' title='it is a new year'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-387361156798323677</id><published>2011-12-21T19:45:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-21T19:45:51.260-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is three shots of whisky</title><content type='html'>Tonight I am watching an incredibly enjoyable film "Midnight in Paris" and I had a few shots of whisky. I then saw my new shoes.  Which prompted me to put on a party dress. And I had a little midnight walk in Paris myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/21/2816.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/21/s_2816.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-387361156798323677?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/387361156798323677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=387361156798323677' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/387361156798323677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/387361156798323677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/12/it-is-three-shots-of-whisky.html' title='it is three shots of whisky'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6401165903992559866</id><published>2011-12-20T23:51:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T23:51:26.312-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a puppy!</title><content type='html'>Meet Daisy! She is the newest friend in the house. She was neglected or abused but she's coming around. Today is the first day she played with the toy on her own. And she even hung out with all the people at the party the other day. She loves the dog park and loves her new friends Nakima and Rajah. And she is quite the cuddle bug. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3544.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3544.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3545.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3545.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6401165903992559866?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6401165903992559866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6401165903992559866' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6401165903992559866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6401165903992559866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/12/it-is-puppy.html' title='it is a puppy!'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-926804269869663265</id><published>2011-12-20T16:11:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T16:11:31.991-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a magical shop</title><content type='html'>There is a saying that all good things must come to an end. And this story is no exception. &lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time in a land very much like this in a time not too long ago there was a little shop. And this shop was magical. In this shop was a girl. A girl who was afraid of the world because she knew very little of it. This girl ran the shop. She did not know that the shop contained magic. She had no idea how powerful a thing was bestowed on her. So she went to the shop every day and served the customers. She made them smile. She met many kind people in the shop. Many people who had good hearts and shared lots of love, but she was still afraid of the world. One day a boy walked in. When the little shop girl saw the boy her heart stopped and she almost fell over. She had never met someone who had done that to her before, she didn’t know what to do, she was afraid. The boy started coming into the shop quite regularly. He would try to talk to the little shop girl but she was so shy she could barely speak. So he stopped coming. The girl hated herself for not taking a chance but she was still too afraid of the world to change anything about it. Over the years the girl became braver and braver. New friends taught her about life and about the world. As she became brave in the little shop she was able to become brave outside the shop and venture out into the world. Then one day she did the bravest thing imaginable, she invited the boy to come back to the shop. And he came. The girl fell in love with the boy. A whole new world opened up to her. She danced, she sang, she was happy and free and brave. Her bravery and happiness brought more people into the shop. And more and more people found bravery, and love, and happiness in the little shop. So many people loved the magical shop that the shop oozed out love onto all those who entered. People found answers, comfort, joy, friendship. So much good came from a very little shop it seemed impossible. But then one day the boy broke the girl’s heart. And all that was good about the magical little shop seemed dark and lonely. The girl tried, she tried so hard to be brave. She tried so hard to be happy but silence brought tears, music brought tears, night brought tears and so did the mornings. The girl’s friends rallied around her to help her with the little shop. The shop had worked magic on them as well and they didn’t want to lose it. Nor did they want to lose her. Sadly in the end the darkness overwhelmed her and she had to leave the shop, and the magic left with her. But the girl who was once afraid of the world was afraid no more. She may have had her heart broken but she had found love, she may have had to leave the shop but she had the courage to do so, and she may have to face many more scary and dark things ahead but the magic had worked and she knew she could get through. You see, good things do come to an end. And it is sad when they do. However it does not mean more good things won’t follow. And when those good things end, more good will follow.&lt;br /&gt;///////&lt;br /&gt;I was driving home last night and Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas is You came on the radio, I promptly broke out in tears. For the past 5 years I spent Christmas in my little shop. And every year I put that song on our Christmas playlist. And at night when the shop was empty (or almost so) I would turn the song up as loud as I could and dance like a mad woman until I ended in giggles on the sofa. I remember one night in particular I did this with a few customers. One of whom had never danced like a madwoman before in her life but had always wanted to. You see there is something quite freeing about dancing like no one is watching. After the song was over she was glowing and giggling and thanked me over and over for making her let loose and be crazy for that moment in time. Truth is there were 1,000’s of those moments that took place in the store. 100’s of them were for me myself. There are countless memories I have of mini breakthroughs, cherished moments, laughing on the floor funny moments, friendships and so much more. While the shop was open and running yes I knew it was special. But I was so bogged down with the daily muck I often didn’t get to see it that way. After my heart was broken I saw the shop solely as a burden. I couldn’t see the magic happening around me no matter how hard I looked. I hated the fact that I was so affected by one man. But a year plus after everything happened I can look back and see just how wonderful even the heartache was. Because without the shop I wouldn’t have stretched myself the way I did, I wouldn’t have met Adam, I wouldn’t have fallen in love, I wouldn’t have had my heart broken, and I wouldn’t know I could survive that sort of impossible pain. I still would have been afraid of men, of people, of friendships, of the world. I wouldn’t have built this confidence I have in myself, I wouldn’t have pushed myself to those extremes. There is not a single bit of me that ever wants to do it again but there is also not a single bit of me that regrets any of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-926804269869663265?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/926804269869663265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=926804269869663265' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/926804269869663265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/926804269869663265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/12/it-is-magical-shop.html' title='it is a magical shop'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7252972346383521302</id><published>2011-11-07T22:40:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-07T23:29:54.961-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a dream(nightmare?)</title><content type='html'>Continuing my non-sleep pattern I had a terrible time falling asleep last night. When I finally did I slept for a whopping 2 hours. During those 2 hours I had a wretched dream. And here on this lovely medium of the internet I will share said dream and I would like to open it for interpretation.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In this dream I returned home. To our little house on Hillside Rd on top of the little mountain in North NJ. I returned with a man I was apparently dating, a tall  light haired, green eyed man. I planned to show him everything; the house, the Tepee made out of fallen trees, the big white house with the dog that scared our dog, my neighbor's little house that my sisters and I spent so many afternoons, the tree house, the swamp, the pet cemetery, the top of the trail where you could see the city's skyline, everything. When we got there though everything had changed. My neighborhood of 10 houses had turned into a neighborhood of 100. Cement everywhere. The blueberry trail had turned into a park full of cement and graffiti. The tree tepee had fallen over, the tree house torn down. The old barn that my sister and I used to play at was abandoned, all the horses gone, fences fallen. So as I was walking him around my old home I was explaining to him all that used to be. The whole time I was though I kept thinking 'this is not the guy I thought I would be showing this to', 'this isn't the guy I'm supposed to be sharing this with', 'I wanted to share my whole life, past and all with someone else'. As we went on walking and hiking I could feel my heart sinking deeper and deeper. Then as we were hiking towards to old mining area he grabbed me and kissed me and promptly proposed. And I promptly said yes. I instantly woke in turmoil. The fact that my old home town changed really was nothing more than my subconscious telling me that we really can never go back, you never step in the same river twice etc, etc. It was the man that bothered me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7252972346383521302?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7252972346383521302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7252972346383521302' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7252972346383521302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7252972346383521302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/11/it-is-dreamnightmare.html' title='it is a dream(nightmare?)'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8860014492788220215</id><published>2011-11-06T09:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T09:39:39.526-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is lost love</title><content type='html'>I was listening to Katie Perry's "the one who  got away" on the radio the other day. So sad actually. It reminded me of a sermon I heard. The priest said that the most common regret he was told when people were on death's door was that they didn't love enough. Colbie Callait's song "before I let you go" is another song about lost love. Adele's "someone like you" and "rolling in the deep" for that matter most of her album 21 is about lost love. I was watching "crazy stupid love" and they kept saying; if you've found the one then you have to fight for it. My question is; HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW WHO IS THE ONE? Which is now reminding me of the movie "Timer" yes it would be nice if technology would tell us who our soul mate is. Of course when did technology ever do anything perfectly?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8860014492788220215?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8860014492788220215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8860014492788220215' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8860014492788220215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8860014492788220215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/11/it-is-lost-love.html' title='it is lost love'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6819194590217717124</id><published>2011-10-27T19:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-27T20:04:31.651-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a broken heart</title><content type='html'>I think I might already have a blog post entitled this, but who said history doesn't repeat itself? So here I go again. &lt;div&gt;Things I've learned:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't eat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I definitely can't sleep and when I do its full of nightmares.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I cry....a lot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I'm learning my heartbreak pattern. Whoop-dee-do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will say one thing I am happy that I learned, after the last heart-wrenching heartache I apparently am stupid enough to attempt to put myself through another heart-destroying heartache. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have decided to pick up a little faster than the last time. I'm refusing to let myself wallow for as long as I did with Adam. Figure I should just let Frank go and jump right back in. Chances are if I do I might meet a great person. ... Right? Well at least people anyways. So I'm jumping into online dating and going out with any available, nice enough, cute enough, non serial killing men as I can stand hopefully knocking me out of my not sleeping, not eating stupor. In all reality I know this is possibly not the best thing for me to do. But I let Adam rule my emotions and many of my actions for months afterward. And I will not be that weak again to let Frank do the same. So I'm trying this out, I'll keep you posted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6819194590217717124?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6819194590217717124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6819194590217717124' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6819194590217717124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6819194590217717124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-is-broken-heart.html' title='it is a broken heart'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7873476182557119407</id><published>2011-10-12T12:57:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T12:57:49.648-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is an adventure</title><content type='html'>When you branch outside of your comfort zone on an adventure to experience yourself you are bound to get a few bumps and bruises along the way. Me, being who I am these minor injuries are normally inflicted on my heart. Please be sure to note I said MINOR. &lt;br /&gt;The last few weeks people have been challenging my belief in love. Part of me is starting to believe them. Maybe I am living in a fairy tale? I am just really having a hard time letting go of the idea that someone will love me. My argument to this when talking to a bartender friend of mine was if I could feel that love for someone wouldn't it make sense that someone would eventually be capable of feeling that love for me. My hope is fading though. Not just through my own personal small experiences but through watching others. &lt;br /&gt;My latest bruises have been distributed by three men, Adam, my latest crush, and some random guy I had a beer with. The crush and I just are in the wrong time. Which is sad because we both feel like we could have some sort of meat and potatoes connection. So it stung a little when the realization of nothing would happen (at least for now). Adam came back into my world for a lunch. Old feelings, old hurts all there front and center. As I guzzled my beer I felt like there was a flashing neon sign above my head "I used to love this man! And here I am sitting here. Can you tell I'm scared out of my mind?" All in all the lunch went well. I only cried a little bit. It was good to see someone who knows me better than most other people in the world. Sometimes I feel like he understands me better than my family, better than my best friend he just knows me he can read between every line every bit of coyness. No matter how scary that can be it was also refreshing when you are not able to hide anything then you don't have to try hide anything. But that is where the sting comes in, someone that knows me so well, someone that I loved so deeply didn't love me. It honestly makes me feel unlovable. &lt;br /&gt;The third guy told me that love was not our ultimate answer to life and somehow that set me off on an emotional breakdown. Of course love is the answer right? Shouldn't we always choose love?&lt;br /&gt;Anyways I feel like it's time to change something. What I'm not quite sure but time it definitely is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7873476182557119407?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7873476182557119407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7873476182557119407' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7873476182557119407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7873476182557119407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-is-adventure.html' title='it is an adventure'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-175287904407169126</id><published>2011-10-07T13:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-07T13:59:16.260-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is dying alone</title><content type='html'>Late night TV for a single girl mainly consists of Sex and the City. This particular episode playing this evening (morning) Miranda buys an apartment and the fear of dying alone strikes home. The particular plot combined with a couple drinks of Sambuca has me thinking seriously about my life as a single woman. I remember one night I was quite ill and my roommate at the time, KM (now KZ :-)) took the time to worry about me and make sure I made it home ok. Waking in the morning and knowing that someone had been there to care about me and if I hadn't gotten home someone would've known. I remember one night I was talking to Adam on the phone outside my house I was pacing the street and told him jokingly to call the cops if someone stole me. He told me he'd be at my house faster than the cops to catch anyone who dared touch me. Again the knowledge that someone knew where I was and what I was doing and who would care for me, protect me brought comfort to my heart. I know my mother is reading this and thinking like any good mama bear would "tell me what you ate doing and where you are and if anyone dares harm you or if you have anything wrong your father and I will be there to help protect and serve". Truth is I am lucky enough to have parents who do think and operate like that. &lt;br /&gt;Even though it is wonderful to have parents like mine typically parents die before their children or if we didn't live close by to each other.&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~ fell asleep~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;I'm still unsure whether or not I will ever meet anyone who can put up with me long enough to decide they can put up with me forever. (I'm beginning to think that my ideas of love are a consistent deterrent to others and I can't decide if I'm the one who is wrong or if they are.) All that aside I don't want to die alone. Why? There is a song "you are nobody til somebody loves you" this I believe goes back to the human desire to be known. We long to be remembered maybe it has to do with our mortality and how we are always striving to be immortal. If someone loves you forever you become immortal to them etc etc. But I have people who will love me forever and I will love them forever. So why don't I want to be old and alone? Is it possibly just loneliness? You could say that however again unless all my friends and family die before I do (god forbid) I won't be lonely. Third possibility; economic sense. At the rate I am living my life now and at the rate of inflation as a single woman I will never be able to retire. Ok yes this would make life more convenient, two incomes and hopefully he will be better with finances than me. That's not a reason for me to search or long for someone. I could make life choices and changes and work hard and retire I'm sure. So what is my deal? Why do I want someone? I should state at this point that this issue was not an issue a few years ago. I honestly didn't care or maybe I just figured it would inevitably happen so why worry about it. Now? I don't know why maybe it's the fact I'm pushing 30 and realize it's time to be an adult. I don't know. There is still not anything in me who craves a family of my own. I already have a house and I get my female nesting desire out of the way. Hanging out in the day care at work fills my baby need well really over-fills my baby time desire. I really don't want kids of my own, however I should say that when I was madly in love with Adam I wanted kids because he wanted kids so I wanted to give him everything he wanted because I loved him. Honestly I think I'd. Be happy wither way kids or no kids. I lost my train of thought....oh right. But there is a desire in me to share life with someone. I was reading E Gilbert's book committed and she asked all her unmarried friends by they wanted to be married. One of there friends stated she had a strong desire to be chosen. Yes the is definitely that. And I feel like I have a lot of love to give and I long to give that love to someone who in turn can give me love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that is it! Maybe I want to complete my love circle. Since my life has turned into a pursuit of love and happiness the ultimate statement of that love would be to love someone who loves me, unforgettably, uninhibitedly, unendingly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-175287904407169126?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/175287904407169126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=175287904407169126' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/175287904407169126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/175287904407169126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/10/it-is-dying-alone.html' title='It is dying alone'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7529989857697570781</id><published>2011-09-18T01:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T01:58:14.308-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is sambuca</title><content type='html'>Having a night off is a rare and beautiful thing in my life. Tonight's was one of those unplanned gems due to an alignment of the planets, a cold, a chilly night and a closed patio sent me home at 4 this afternoon. &lt;br /&gt;So I spent it in good Italian fashion; a slice of pizza smothered in fresh mozzarella followed up with a shot of sambuca and a glass of wine. Yum! Me being a light weight this promptly passed me out cold by 730. &lt;br /&gt;Now its 130 in the morning and I'm wide awake. So whats a girl to do before dawn? Watch tv and eat some haggen daaz. TV of choice tonight? White Collar. &lt;br /&gt;I love this first season of White Collar. Neal searching for Kate the sparring between Peter and Neal. And Mozzie, I love Mozzie. &lt;br /&gt;Anyways this is a pointless blog. I'm lonely, bored, awake at an ungodly hour, the only person I want to talk to I can't and I have a cold. Thank the gods for haggen daaz. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7529989857697570781?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7529989857697570781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7529989857697570781' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7529989857697570781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7529989857697570781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/09/it-is-sambuca.html' title='it is sambuca'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-9193910732963743755</id><published>2011-09-15T15:10:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T15:10:01.303-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a changing person</title><content type='html'>I've been doing deep thinking lately about change and I thought I'd revisit my blog about the subject.&lt;br /&gt; The other day I was talking to a friend about his girlfriend and the problems they are having. I asked him if he really wanted things to work out between them and he said "well if she would change abc and xyz then maybe" My response was of course people don't change. Then I started thinking about how much life does change. And how much I've changed. And how much people I know have changed. But why is it whenever we speak of relationships we say 'you better love that person as they are they won't change' or 'if you have that issue with them now it's will only get worse because they won't stop that habit'? Because truth of the matter is people do change. We can't change people but people change themselves. So this of course got me thinking about my personal change and growth and learning. I really like who I am now. But I also liked who I was in the past. Truth is I think there was only a short period in my teenhood that I didn't like myself. Yet I've changed so much in the past 5 years. So here's the theory I came up with after hours of pondering..... I am the same me just a deeper older wiser version of me. I still have my sense of adventure, my kindness, my silliness, my deep pure heart, my sense of humor, my same character flaws and strengths exist. &lt;br /&gt;So here is my theory. We do change, we grow, we learn hopefully we get wiser but most importantly we become more of who we already were. Our outsides might change our attitudes, our perceptions but our hearts our core our souls they don't that is who we are 'til the day we die. I believe we can unearth good or bad parts of us as time goes by but it of course can only be our choosing not being forced by someone else's mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-9193910732963743755?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/9193910732963743755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=9193910732963743755' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/9193910732963743755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/9193910732963743755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/09/it-is-changing-person.html' title='it is a changing person'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-2832726917798414609</id><published>2011-09-01T15:54:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T00:46:34.901-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a love song</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This week has been full of love songs running through my head. Possibly because I am singing a few dozen tomorrow at my dear friends wedding :-). From Elvis to Bob Dylan, Etta James to John Legend we searched across genres and generations to find some of the best romantic love songs written, that I am capable of singing anyways.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When asked how do you know if you are in love the answer usually follows - all the love songs make sense. In fact in one song "La Vie En Rose" the author so plainly put it 'I thought that love was just a word, they sang about in songs I've heard, it took your kisses to reveal, that I was wrong and love is real'. (Oh this thought process is bringing up old blog post memories, unfortunately I cannot find the blog which I will now refer to. I'll attach it later if I find it) So here in this song it is sung that we don't understand love until we live through it, nor (would I dare to venture to say?) that we don't know love until we lose it. So here I am on a love song binge preparing for two of my best friends to get married contemplating all the different types of love I am singing about. See you have the La Vie En Rose love, the crazy passionate druggie love 'When you kiss me angels sing and even though I close my eyes I see la vie en rose (translated; life through rose colored glasses)'. And then you have the melodramatic love of Dylan 'I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue, I'd go crawling down the avenue, there is nothing that I wouldn't do, to make you feel my love'. How crazy drunk in love do you have to be to feel that? And isn't there a part of each and everyone of us that wants someone to love us that over the top? Even the strong macho men (which I realize there are probably very few of you who read this blog) would want a woman to say 'when I'm in your arms and I'm holding you so close to me all my wildest dreams come true'?  I mean who among us can say we don't want that passionate love in our lives? And don't we all deserve it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is also the still love (best word I could come up with to describe that). The aspect of love that makes the world seem to stop for a moment, Melody Gardot expresses it in her song 'ticks may never hear a tock, but it don't matter, because when I'm with you, the whole world stands still, you're my one and only thrill.' Or in Hoagie Carmichael's song "The Nearness of You" the connection we feel when we are in love 'when I'm in your arms and I'm holding you so close to me, all my wildest dreams come true.'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think one of my favorite songs we are singing would have to be "the Story." In it's simplicity the author says the love stories have all been told, they all begin differently and some end poorly 'But if you don't try, the light won't hit your eye, and the moon won't rise'. Still being a hopeless romantic I always believe love deserves a chance at fruition. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So tomorrow afternoon I will take guests on a tour of many of the different facets of the love that lead to a life together. Most important aspect of that love which I have come to crave is the steady love. It was Dylan who also wrote 'you turn the tide on me each day and teach my eyes to see, just being next to you is a natural thing for me, and I could never let you go no matter what goes on, I love you more than ever now that the past is gone.' I was texting with a friend the other day and I described this love as a meat and potatoes kind of love. A love that you can survive on not one that only exists on a druggy high but has stability of friendship and trust and respect. That is the kind of love I want, that natural easy stable love. Sure with a bit of the drug high a rush of adrenaline at the thought of seeing them, a stomach flip when they surprise you, a flood of passion when you kiss. But still that love that could make it through hell and back again, that (for lack of a better analogy) eat every day and survive on. (I would like to put in a side note here and state that even though you can survive entirely on meat and potatoes there should be veggies and desserts and garnishes and drink in your life as well - I know I'm weird but bear with me - I believe you need a solid love to build of of and have friends and family surrounding you so that if the potato famine hits and the cows all get hoof and mouth you have others to rely on to get you through :-))&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-2832726917798414609?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2832726917798414609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=2832726917798414609' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2832726917798414609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2832726917798414609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/09/it-is-love-song.html' title='it is a love song'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1563079655730701589</id><published>2011-08-29T15:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T15:46:37.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is the ever changing world we call home</title><content type='html'>There are very few absolutes, laws of physics aside, in this world. This past week provided proof if I needed convincing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week my little shop shut for good. Sadly the man who purchased it went bankrupt and in a matter of hours almost six years of love pain happiness stress tears and joy was over. I was working at the restaurant the other day and a customer from the coffee shop was there. She asked me what happened. Told me how much she missed me there. I began to cry talking about it being gone (here I am in a busy restaurant surrounded by strangers and I'm tearing up- I am such a shameless sap!)  As I was talking to her though I realized that none of my new friends in my life would get to see something that was such an instrumental part in making me who I am. They wouldn't see the people who I loved they wouldn't see me in that element ever. I am quite confident that nothing like the HB will ever exist in my life again. I don't see how it could. That whole separate world that revolved around eccentric people and good coffee. That place that I gave my lifeblood to. That little shop in so many ways was an outward physical manifestation of me. Now there is a whole new set of my life where that will be obscure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am on a plane flying to Canada for a dear friends wedding. Life moving changing growing. This weekend 3 years ago a dear acquaintance of mine died on an early morning flight. I remembered this as my flight was heading down the runway. Siting towards the back of the plane looking at the rows of seats full of people thinking of how a flight similar to this one ended up being a fiery coffin for all those people. I know I've mused about the shortness of life  before but whenever I am reminded of the uncertainty it makes me think - is my life where I want it? If I were to die today here on this plane did I tell the people I care about that I do? Will my responsibilities be taken care of? Did I live my life with fear and trepidation or did I take risks and chances and did I remember to live this life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is never a good time for change. There is never a good time for conflict. Nor is there a perfect time to die. Change happens and the world spins. Conflict arises and we must handle it. Death is inevitable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are good constants too. Love will always be in the world. New life will always spring up. And peace comes after conflict. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1563079655730701589?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1563079655730701589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1563079655730701589' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1563079655730701589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1563079655730701589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/08/it-is-ever-changing-world-we-call-home.html' title='It is the ever changing world we call home'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5301809523822200863</id><published>2011-08-10T21:07:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T21:07:30.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is love</title><content type='html'>Well it has been a wee bit since I've been on here. I've been running all over the place and haven't had time to catch up with my thoughts. I still love both jobs. Sometimes I don't honestly like the gym. I get sooooo bored. And I still don't feel 100% comfortable. However my boss today gave me a hug when I left and told me he loved me. So I guess there is some element of fitting in ;-). The restaurant? I adore. I love all the people and personalities and all the different chemistries between everyone. &lt;br /&gt;Ok on to the meat of the blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twice this week I called God a failure. Huh. Both of these incidences in which I stated he failed were involving love. Growing up in the circle I did one wasn't ever allowed to challenge God. If you did you were a heretic and most certainly on a slippery path to H-E double hockey sticks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first declaration of holy failure came when a girl at work was talking about her girlfriends family being judgmental towards her gay lifestyle. I went on a rant about how Christians walk around feeling entitled and judgmental and yadda yadda yadda. I said something to the effect of "didn't they read the bible? All God says is to love people whether they are black white purple gay straight mean nice stupid or genius!" realizing of course that 10 years ago I would've gel very similar feelings towards the "poor lost soul". It was at this point I realized God actually failed. Here he sent himself to earth and tell , nay beg people to love each other and here we are 2000 years later walking around judging hating discriminating condemning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of days ago I was talking to a new close friend of mine and he was expressing exasperation in trying to keep everyone happy and in turn was not finding or allowing happiness for himself. My response again was that God himself couldn't make all the people in the world happy so how are we supposed to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" the author states that God's final message to his creation was "sorry for all the mistakes." Often in humor we find a bit of truth. (and yes I know you can now all argue that we were the ones that fell and made the world imperfect and whatehaveyou). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it funny how life changes you. Reading through my old blogs seeing where I came from how I've changed humorous at time most definitely. And yes I realize I might be wrong in my thinking now and 5 years from now I may laugh at myself for stating such facts. Such is life I suppose. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5301809523822200863?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5301809523822200863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5301809523822200863' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5301809523822200863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5301809523822200863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/08/it-is-love.html' title='It is love'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5732495737426014639</id><published>2011-07-17T13:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T15:21:38.491-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is the greeks</title><content type='html'>There is an ancient Greek theory that when the human race was created we were comprised of two heads, four legs and four arms. The gods grew tired of us living in happy bliss of completion and split us sending our other halves out into the world sending us on an eternal search for the rest of ourselves. This is how the Greeks explained the eternal longing we have to find true love. &lt;div&gt;The other day at the gym a couple of the old gym hounds asked me if I was still working my two jobs. I told them I was. Their response was, Any man would be a lucky man to be with you. Why are you single? I laughed and told them I was too busy. They shook their heads and said that I really should take time when the right guy comes along. I promised them I would. But there hangs that question - will the right guy ever come around? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the guys at the restaurant was talking to me about my single-dom (it seems wherever I go my singleness is an issue for people) he told me that I could have any guy in the place if I wanted him. That I was "one cool chic and any of the guys here would love to date me." My question to him was - so why aren't they.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read Steve Harvey's book - Love like a Woman, Think like a Man. His basic theory was that women don't identify the way on which men love them. That we still need to love like a woman "because a woman's love hold no bounds and there is nothing else like it on earth" but that we need to identify what is going through a man's head. That they need us to identify what they are doing that actually is them showing their love - provision, ownership etc. And he said that we need to know what men are looking from us - independence and support. (Please do note that this is a summation and there was a lot more detail in the book.) He also explained to women who felt like they were just used by men why they were. His analogy was a keeper vs. catch and release. Upon reading this book I texted a guy friend of mine and told him I discovered I am the perfect woman, I'm not a slut, I am confident, I expect independence in a relationship, I am an independent person myself, I demand commitment from from men if they are not willing to have some level of it at least the level I am putting forth I'm out and I support and encourage without nagging and on top of it all I rarely judge. His reply was "yes you are which is what keeps men from actually dating you but always wanting to because they know once they are in a relationship with you they know that would be it and men are often afraid." You know the old ball and chain, the last days of their lives being wolves or wild mustangs or whatever the hell analogy that a man sees himself as in his single-dom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Adam once told me I didn't make him feel needed (as discussed in many previous blogs no falser words have ever been spoken, well I mean the me not needing someone part I still believe to this day he was just blind to my weaknesses because he was so wrapped up in his own). Yesterday morning when I woke up my feet were moving on their own, my calf muscle were spasming so badly that my feet were actually alternating between flexing and pointing all on there own with out the assistance of any brain activity. As I was laying in bed thinking about my best move and debating whether or not I could actually walk to the bathroom to get the supplies I needed to fix my current conundrum I thought to myself "and that pansy ass rat bastard thought I was so independent I would never need him." I then cried all the way to the bathroom in pain to get my first aid muscle supplies (thank god my house is small and it was a very short painful walk). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have to head to work and I am afraid I have no nice wrap up paragraph or phrase to tell you. It's just one of those days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5732495737426014639?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5732495737426014639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5732495737426014639' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5732495737426014639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5732495737426014639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/07/it-is-greeks.html' title='it is the greeks'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-2619515920351678250</id><published>2011-07-12T08:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T15:24:02.471-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a lot of work to be nice all the time</title><content type='html'>Oh I had a great blog in my head last night and I have completely forgotten it. Woe to early onset short term memory loss. /-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my saga at the gym continues I am learning again how important to keep good friends close. A new manager has encroached upon this little kingdom. I'm sure she is a nice person but from what I am gathering so far - she is not here to make any friends. As she came in yesterday on her first day she did not ask, how was your weekend, how are you etc etc. She proceeded to tell everyone to do something menial and that she is not in charge of. Including other managing staff how to do their job. Basically, I am tired of being the friendly one here all the time. I mean seriously???? When my club manager walked in yesterday morning the first words out if his mouth were- when was the last time towels were pulled. Again, not good morning, it's nice to see you etc etc. He is a nice guy I know he doesn't mean to be rude. But seriously??? Why is it that I am the one who always has to be the courteous one? Why can't someone ask me how my day is for a change? Sigh. I guess the whole point is I had worn just about everyone down. Now I have yet another challenge and I think this one will be a doozie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-2619515920351678250?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2619515920351678250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=2619515920351678250' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2619515920351678250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2619515920351678250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/07/oh-i-had-great-blog-in-my-head-last.html' title='it is a lot of work to be nice all the time'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1185771471421662839</id><published>2011-07-04T15:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-07-17T15:24:31.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is human density</title><content type='html'>What is with the universe? I seriously think I have the worst timing of just about anybody. For crying out loud can't fate give me a break? Sigh. I know I probably just need to take a break and breathe for 5 seconds and it will all be figured out. But still SO frustrating!&lt;br /&gt;To add insult to frustration today at the gym Bear and I went out for some delicious spin pizza. As we were enjoying our slices we had a couple left over slices so I offered them to one of the PT's, who I thought was a less arrogant one, boy was I wrong. After a lecture about how I should work out more if I want to ear like that I looked at him and said "you know what i don't care how you think I look I like myself stop being an ass hole". I realized driving home that I think this is the first time in my life I have ever called someone an ass hole and meant it. I'm concerned.  His response was "how come I became an ass hole for talking about your food?" DENSE!!! Bear wonderful misunderstood guy that he is gave me a hug and said the PT had no right to say that to me. People people people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1185771471421662839?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1185771471421662839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1185771471421662839' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1185771471421662839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1185771471421662839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-is-with-universe-i-seriously-think.html' title='it is human density'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6882420699189250642</id><published>2011-06-28T07:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T07:56:40.697-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is people</title><content type='html'>I feel like I have certainly titled more than one post this title but what else can I say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting here on my short break from 24 thinking about all the people I have met within the past month or so. INCREDIBLE! I have met a dozen personal trainers with a Narcissus complex, lesbians, gays, happily married, un-happily married, happily divorced and un-happily so. I have met single parents, new parents, parent to be. I have met young people well very few older people to tell you the truth. I have met happy managers, unsatisfied managers, people who misunderstand themselves and people who are misunderstood by others. And here is what I have learned so far about the human race- each and every one of us feel the same. Of course we ate not all feeling the same way at the same time but we all share the common bond of emotion. We all get hurt, we all love, we all long to be loved, we all are scared, we all can be brave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the purpose of this blog i am going to focus on two guys I have met. Boy 1) bear, boy 2) Texas. Bear is terribly misunderstood by people. I've heard nothing but what a jerk this guy is since I arrived at this job. I would like to tell everyone a) he is not an b) GROW UP! I would like to point out that they are actually the jerks. The other day as I was standing listening to two psycho girls go on and on about why Bear is such a jerk and why blah blah blah I wanted to smack both of them and tell them that high school was over and as both of them are approaching their 24th birthdays it was time to start acting like an adult and MOVE ON. And learn not to gossip about random incidents that happened over a year ago and have NOTHING to do with the present time. Ugh, why do people have to be so hateful so immature and just downright mean? Bear and I get along just fine. He's not an ass hrs made mistakes but he's actually just a big Teddy Bear who despite his façade of a tough outer shell he is a sweet kind hearted soul. &lt;br /&gt;Texas is my only real friend here at the gym. I adore him for the fact that he is the only one of the dozen or so trainers here who didn't judge me at first sight. We've bonded over Tom and Jerry cartoons and good conversation. I am so grateful he works there with me. Not sure honestly I could deal with all the narcissism with out at least one friend. Besides being sweet, kind, handsome, cute southern drawl, fantastic blue eyes, great sense of humor, intelligence and a plethora of other positive qualities I am not attracted to him. This I cannot figure out, mainly because I do adore him. But there is not an inkling of attraction there for me. Huh. It's making me wonder what actually causes attraction. Something to ponder. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6882420699189250642?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6882420699189250642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6882420699189250642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6882420699189250642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6882420699189250642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/06/it-is-people.html' title='It is people'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7359395506125108878</id><published>2011-06-15T11:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-15T11:29:15.029-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is two halves that make a whole</title><content type='html'>One thing I've learned the past week or so is to take breaths, deep deep ones. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the restaurant on Friday night they did the schedule all funky and left me by myself on the patio during happy hour. I have to say I am incredibly grateful there is more than one manager there. And usually more than one manager is there at a time on busy nights (ie Friday nights).  So while I was serving 8 tables 2 manger asked if she needed to help me with anything. And the other said "aren't you capable of handling 8 tables?" To add enjoyment to my day by the time I got home at 1245am I had worked from 6am Friday morning sans 1 hour of driving. So that all adds up to what....17hours of actual work? Oh yeah and those 17 hours were spent on my feet. Driving home I thanked God for giving me tough feet. :-)&lt;br /&gt;At the gym there are 4 count them 4 other employees who say hello to me first. I know this is stupid but honestly I've been there a month now and when you come in to work in the morning can't you say hello? Why do I have to be the one who says "Hey so&amp;so good morning how are you how was your weekend etc etc" I'd say 20% of the time I don't get a hello back. I've resorted to passive aggressiveness. When one trainer- who I actually do get along with did not greet me back I "Oh my weekend was awesome thanks for asking" as he walked away. Which resulted in a smile a laugh and help with the towels later. I'm still trying to fit in. Kinda pisses me off a bit that the two new girls are loved by all. This is purely because they are short, cute, athletic little things. Both of whom I really like by the way. And they seem to get along with me just fine. But still when they are asked by everyone in the place how there day if they need help etc etc it can be frustrating and a little, well basically it pisses me off. I guess I feel like a fish attempting to fly. &lt;br /&gt;On the flip side at the restaurant I feel like my personality meshes a little better. Co-workers get my jokes and the clients generally like me. In fact I have been invited to join activities outside of work. I'm again grateful I have two jobs. Stressful as it was to start two on the same day I feel like it was the best thing to do. If I was only at the gym I would end up hating my physicality and my self-esteem would have suffered while if I was only at the restaurant I wouldn't be making enough cash to survive. So again I might be exhausted, sometimes pissy but generally happy with my latest adventures. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7359395506125108878?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7359395506125108878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7359395506125108878' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7359395506125108878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7359395506125108878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/06/it-is-two-halves-that-make-whole.html' title='it is two halves that make a whole'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5840314242450618753</id><published>2011-06-07T05:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-06-07T05:37:24.542-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a quick catch up</title><content type='html'>Where oh where to begin? Well, I have a job, make that two. AWESOME! So the girl who was burned out from working too many hours in her little shop is booking just about as many hours between these two jobs, and the best part is that they are entirely on your feet on the go the whole time. So basically I AM EXHAUSTED. But I am happy. At job Gym I am surrounded by skinny women and buff men. I am the chunkiest person that works there – nothing like a little peer pressure to behave on my eating habits.  At job Restaurant I am surrounded by….everybody. There are so many personalities crammed into that small kitchen space it is fascinating. I do love both jobs. And both jobs are stretching me mentally and physically. After working 16 hours yesterday getting 4 hours of sleep then heading off for 8 more hours by the time I got home today I honestly thought I might collapse and not make it into tomorrow. So what did I do, mowed the lawn. &lt;br /&gt;As always I think while mowing. Thinking is such a dangerous past-time of mine. This past week+ I have been doing a lot of thinking about my choice to leave the little shop and go back into the real world. So much of my final decision had to do with heart break. In my exhaustion my heartbreak is very close to the surface as pain always is when we are tired. It seems to take more energy to stay positive. Anyways as I was mowing the lawn, wishing I wasn’t single and hence wasn’t mowing the lawn I remembered working at the restaurant last night. Walking back into the kitchen area to get ice the kitchen staff was laughing at me, I of coursed challenged their enjoyment in whatever I happened to be doing that they found so amusing, I was met with the response, “Oh you are just so beautiful”. Silly boys. I was then asked later that night if my decent was from Spain, my answer that I was Italian was met with disappointment. Silly, silly boys.  There is another co-worker of mine there who I consistently find staring at me, quite certain he is smitten. Then I saw my neighbor who made very week overtures towards me last fall. At the gym there is a client who has made it quite clear he wishes to date me, I mean hey he broke up with his girlfriend/fiancé two days ago. All these thoughts were rumbling through my head as I was pushing my lawn mower back and forth, back and forth. And here is the conclusion I came to, if I wanted to I could be dating any number of men, and I am not. What does this say about me? I might be heartbroken but I still have my standards. &lt;br /&gt;~ ~ ~ ~ ~&lt;br /&gt;OK so it’s been a few days . Think I fell asleep in the middle of the previous attempt.  . &lt;br /&gt;Well. It’s been a good week. Second week of my new life. I’m happy. Very happy. I haven’t been this happy since Adam and I were speaking. Yes when I wake up in the morning I feel loss, though this morning was the first I didn’t in about a month and a half. Improvement, yeah? I feel like I am starting to fit in a little. I hope it is not in my head, would stink if my perception was imaginary. I am glad I have the job at the restaurant, the gym I feel like the fattest person there, and at the restaurant I’m everybody’s sweet pea and sexy with my hair down. When going through a mental crisis fluffing is always a nice thing to have around. At both places I have discovered that I am one of a kind. N at the gym is super friendly and I adore her. However she’s a jock. She plays basketball and went to school for exercise theory or whathaveyou. I used the word harried yesterday and was met with a blank stare by all. Hairy? Hurried? Harried did not even think about computing. Now please do not misunderstand me, these people are not stupid, they are very smart, very good at what they do they just haven’t read the books I have, they aren’t interested in the world the same way I am. I asked one personal trainer who has a very unique last name where it’s origin was and he said he had never thought to look. Like I said – whole different group of personalities. At the restaurant I would have to say I would run in to very similar circumstances. Again these people are not dumb, just I am finding I am very unique in both crowds. I’ve been thinking about a lot of the positives of the past 6 months. Then stretching back to the wonderful changes in my life the past year. And lets pull it even farther – say the past 5 years. &lt;br /&gt;Have you ever sat down and made a 5 year plan. You know, I’d like to be here by this date etc? I have found that most of the 5 year plans I have read involve weight loss and job title and financial status etc. But lets take a look back on each of our own 5 years. What did they really bring you? Maybe you did get job advancement, maybe you lost that weight, maybe you became a millionaire. But is that what really matters? Honestly what I would like to remember is finding my voice, finding my wings and flying like a sparrow singing my arrival wherever I go. Learning about ourselves that is really what we take with us each and every day, every moment. I am so happy I can converse with just about anyone. It is a skill I am very grateful to have learned especially seeing as my current professions would involve talking to everyone. . &lt;br /&gt;I guess what I am trying to say is….all the hardship, the sleepless nights, the tears, the complete exhaustion, the complete and total heartbreak, the anxiety, the stress, the pain, the sore feet…they are all worth it because it has given me…strength, knowledge, passion, love, friends, and most of all freedom to be myself and know who that is. &lt;br /&gt;So as I embark on yet another chapter of my ever growing book of life, I feel good, happy, excited and totally exhausted.&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5840314242450618753?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5840314242450618753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5840314242450618753' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5840314242450618753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5840314242450618753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/06/it-is-quick-catch-up.html' title='it is a quick catch up'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1654787702523464231</id><published>2011-05-19T12:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T12:11:06.552-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is exhausting</title><content type='html'>So.....anybody have the magic potion to heal a broken heart? If so can you clue me in? I'm tired of myself being sappy and lonely.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1654787702523464231?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1654787702523464231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1654787702523464231' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1654787702523464231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1654787702523464231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-is-exhausting.html' title='it is exhausting'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6804099808185674628</id><published>2011-05-11T15:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T15:37:13.027-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is eliminating an if</title><content type='html'>It has been a long time since I posted. I'm actually working on an exceptionally long post that I am having issues forming. Anyways, it will be posted in time. But for now....&lt;div&gt;I was catching up on "Castle", one of my favorites. The ending line in this particular episode was something to the effect of not letting a what if rule your life. Basically this was said so that &lt;i&gt;maybe&lt;/i&gt; Beckett and Castle would finally get over their issues and admit their love for each other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course we all take things personally, but I was thinking about that auspicious day I contacted Adam. I didn't want to live with that "what if" any more. And even though it ended in heartache, and even though I still feel the relationship was never given a fair shot I am so glad I didn't let that what if haunt any longer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6804099808185674628?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6804099808185674628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6804099808185674628' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6804099808185674628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6804099808185674628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/05/it-is-eliminating-if.html' title='it is eliminating an if'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8782192916412648599</id><published>2011-04-28T20:32:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T22:43:58.561-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is the old revisited</title><content type='html'>Today while I was mowing the lawn my mind wandered, which it often does while performing just about any task, but as I was mowing under the apple tree I remembered a conversation Adam and I had. He had decided, in a moment, that he wanted to help me with my yard work and so as I was dressed for an afternoon party in my skirt and heels I followed him along picking up the branches he trimmed. When we got to the apple tree he asked which branches I wanted off. I told him none, even the low hanging ones had to stay. You see when you stand underneath the tree it creates a canopy of green and red and in my mind is one of the most enchanting places on earth. He said to me "You know you should put a bench under here, it is very intimate." We discussed where the best spot for said bench would be. He said "I kinda like it right here its quiet and secluded you feel all alone here. What do you think?" I responded with something to the effect "it will be you sitting on the bench with me so if you like it I like it." He used to get this look, you know the look when you are thinking about something happy that hasn't happened yet, you're imagining something good, pleasant etc. Anyways then he just said "Huh" If you don't know Adam you wouldn't understand the huh, but he packed a lot of info into a huh. Anyways I was then thinking about Adam and how we never would get to sit on that bench, which of course made me sad. To remind myself of why he and I shouldn't have ever worked out I thought about all the things that he did that pissed me off, namely not reading this blog. In his defense he read it once, he read the post about Freddy, he said it hit too close to home and didn't want to read anymore. In truth that particular post had nothing to do with Adam. It was actually something I had been thinking about for some time and had just found the words to express my thought and so I wrote it out. (If you want to read that post &lt;a href="http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/06/it-is-one-left-behind.html"&gt;click here&lt;/a&gt;) Anyways I found myself thinking about said post and about Freddy. You see in the movie My Fair Lady he ends up alone, but in the play he ends up with Eliza. It seems that even the writers couldn't decide whether it is better to love or to be loved. &lt;div&gt;Now I was thinking about this dilemma, to be loved or to love and comparing it to myself. I'm still admittedly in love with Adam, I know we probably shouldn't be together, that we just keep hurting each other and that neither one of us are apparently willing or able to be what the other needs or wants, I get that. But I am still in love with him.  Then we have Jimmy, sweet guy from CA. He texted me today asked if we could be friends even if we couldn't be together. Said a day hasn't gone by that he hasn't wondered how I've been. He is crazy about me, he doesn't really know me at all, but he's crazy about me. If this was My Fair Lady we have all the characters. Henry would of course be Adam, I would be Eliza and of course Jimmy would be Freddy. Could I be Eliza of the film and be with Henry who doesn't love me but wants me in his life? No. I can't really. I would be miserable. Nor could I be Eliza of the play and go and be with Freddy, it's not fair to him... and I would end up miserable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I should be glad life isn't the movies, or a play  :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8782192916412648599?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8782192916412648599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8782192916412648599' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8782192916412648599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8782192916412648599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-is-old-revisited.html' title='it is the old revisited'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7260439931400444604</id><published>2011-04-26T23:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T23:47:18.141-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a SPIDER</title><content type='html'>So, here I am almost midnight and I can't sleep. I was actually getting tired and then I saw a spider. I didn't have anything to kill it with and it was on the bed so I jumped off to get a shoe and when I got back - gone. I undressed and redressed the bed and no luck. 30 minutes later same deal, shoulda kept the shoe closer. Which I am now but now I can't sleep. I have a bit of arachnophobia especially while I am sleeping, when I was a child my recurring nightmare was that a GIANT spider would straddle my bed and pee on me. I know, I know you are all stifling giggles, but its true and well then when I was maybe around 9 or 10 a little girl friend of mine told me a story about how her friend's friend fell asleep on the beach and a spider left eggs in her eyeball. GROSS!! And I know as an adult that it might not have been true, emphasis on the MIGHT. Anyways I really won't be able to sleep until it is dead. Sigh, guess it's Netflix and Ally McBeal for me tonight. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7260439931400444604?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7260439931400444604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7260439931400444604' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7260439931400444604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7260439931400444604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-is-spider.html' title='it is a SPIDER'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6680754738028390367</id><published>2011-04-19T19:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-19T20:28:32.357-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a learning process</title><content type='html'>So, needless to say this week has been well interesting. Thanks to Adam's phone call a lot  of the emotions, that I had very gratefully moved passed, resurfaced. I remembered everything I missed, the funny, caring, smart, interested in vampires, addicted to football, kind, handsome Adam that I fell in love with. Of course I remembered the pansy, afraid to make a decision, have your cake and eat it too Adam that broke my heart. As I've been thinking this week, turning over things in my head over and over, what did I do wrong, what didn't I have that wasn't worth a risk, could I have held out longer, yaddayaddayadda. I have poured over these questions over and over again. And I have not come up with an answer that is flashing at me "BEX THIS IS WHAT YOU DID WRONG!" I'm not saying I was the best half-girlfriend ever but I was a pretty darn good one. One of the things that made me laugh a bit from that phone call yesterday was that Adam was upset that I had begun to date other people, purely ironic since he is still dating that same girl. Double standard yeah? Anyways during my thinking and self interrogation the guys I have talked to/gone out with over the past few months actually helped my crazy emotional Sicilian self think a little differently. And so, much to your joy I am certain, I'm going to talk a little bit about the recent men in life. &lt;div&gt;First, hopefully you all remember the cute Camaro driving Jewish boy last fall? You know the one who loves Borat? What did this guy teach me? That I am not the girl that will fall in love with a guy just because he pays attention to her. This is actually a terrible fear of mine, you see those girls who fall in and out of love so quickly and eventually marry a guy for no reason than the fact that he made her feel beautiful. I never want to be that girl. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next lets talk about Lance from Alaska. He taught me that not only could I be viewed as desirable but that a man (a man attracted to me no less)could actually be strong and honest (if you haven't figured it out he was the other guy in the blog about men). I still miss Lance a bit, he is a really good guy, I really hope he's happy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the latest Jimmy in California (I know you are all asking yourselves why I can't seem to find someone somewhat closer but I promise I am trying just a little short on luck I guess). Jimmy is quite the sweetheart but he taught me that I could do the right thing even if not doing anything is easier, you see Jimmy was falling for me and well I wasn't falling for him, nice and kind as he was not a single bit of me desired him. So a few days ago I told him so. When I told him I hoped he found someone closer to him and  better than me he said "but you were just right". Sweetheart, I know. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I'm still on a search for my "great", but I'm learning with some help along the way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6680754738028390367?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6680754738028390367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6680754738028390367' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6680754738028390367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6680754738028390367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-is-glimmer.html' title='it is a learning process'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4892843350344404112</id><published>2011-04-14T13:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T13:57:05.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a funny thing that happened on the way to the forum</title><content type='html'>So I came back from the retreat (if one can call a 24 hours stint a retreat :-)) and I felt great, really did. Accepting that a failed relationship does not make me a failure was one of the greatest things I have ever grasped. So as curious fate would have who called me two days after this moment of closure, this moment of acceptance, this precipice of moving on? Adam. Figures right? In all honesty I almost had a heart attack, I started to cry, then hyperventilate, my heart rate jumped to 180, as I was sitting on my sofa watch "Tangled" I realized two things A) I apparently still have very strong emotions connected to this man and B)I needed to calm down and not die of a stroke at the age of 27 over a boy no less. After deliberation and a few margaritas I called him back the next afternoon. A good friend of mine was there with me, mainly to keep my heart rate down to a more normal pace after the conversation. Adam was wanting to reconnect with me somehow. He thought everything was fine (it can be obviously stated that he refused to read my blog while we were "together" and so he most assuredly doesn't read it now). He didn't understand why I don't want him in my life. He told me I was his best friend and he still cared about me, but here's the kicker - he's still dating that same someone. When I told him that he made me feel cheap and my emotions were worthless he scoffed and said it was over dramatic of me to  feel that way. I don't think he ever did, or ever will understand the depth of my emotion. Talking to my friend after this conversation I explained I believed I don't think he believes that kind of love exists.  (I have a feeling if you dig through my blogs you will find something regarding this issue it feels vaguely familiar to me.) I would like to state something here. &lt;i&gt;My heart breaks for all those in the world who do not believe true, deep, hard love doesn't exist.&lt;/i&gt; I know we humans are excellent at hurting each other. I know I have hurt people, in fact I know I have hurt Adam. I know other people have hurt me. All you have to do is turn on a current TV show and see how people hurt other people. Again it breaks my heart. I wish I could cover the world in deep true passionate enduring love, but God himself attempted the same thing and well, we all know how that went right? Let us say for sake itself that Jesus never existed, that it was just a story made up by a sect of Jews who were ready for the world to be different, even if that is the case and you want to be agnostic, atheist or whathaveyou, you still have to admit that the basis of that tale was that &lt;i&gt;love is the most important thing in the world, &lt;/i&gt;and I would like to add, love is the absolute hardest thing to accomplish. I loved Adam, and I am not ashamed to say that part of me still does, but because we live in imperfection love is often not enough. My Dad told me one day while I was crying for possibly the 100th hour after I stopped pretending Adam and I were something we were not that I would find happiness again and that some day when I was married and had children I would look back at this love as a sad moment in my life but life is full of sad moments we just have to move past. And so I am, slowly eternally slowly but I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4892843350344404112?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4892843350344404112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4892843350344404112' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4892843350344404112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4892843350344404112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-is-funny-thing-that-happened-on-way.html' title='it is a funny thing that happened on the way to the forum'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5096396144408097746</id><published>2011-04-09T14:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T14:12:03.257-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a spiritual something or other</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting here at the most adorable little retreat center. It is quiet and tucked away into the trees. I've been here for 24 hours. Most of those hours were spent with me being bored out of my mind writing aimless thoughts in a journal and wondering why I am here and how long do I have to stay until I feel like a more balanced spiritual person. I turned my phone on in exasperation to text my best and dearest friend and to ask her if I came home now would that make me a failure. I realized that the only reason I was staying here past last night was to somehow prove to myself,or God maybe, that I could sit enraptured in this silence and marvel at His glories and hopefully in that remarkable task be given enlightenment as to why I feel that my life is well life. So then I thought to myself how does going home early equal failure? And why do I care? Will God think less of me for going home? Will the little retired priest think it was a failure? Will he care? Why do I care if he cares? And that is when enlightenment hit. I am in fear of becoming a failure and I often consider myself a failure and so I find myself living life the way I feel a failure should. I allow things in my life to spiral out thinking see you are a failure at budgeting that's why you paid that bill late etc etc. But I would like you all to know that even though I failed miserably at my first attempt at love, and that I had a nervous breakdown, and that I allowed the failing at love ruin my happiness for far too long, and the fact that I pay my bills late, and that I forget a lot of things, and that I write really stupid blogs ( I would like to take this moment to thank all of you for allowing me to say stupid things and not judging me &lt;3), and that I change my mind about issues, and that I've never chosen a brilliant career path I AM NOT A FAILURE! :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/09/2414.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/09/s_2414.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class='blogpress_location'&gt;Location:&lt;a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=County%20Road%20311,,United%20States%4037.850705%2C-93.278145&amp;z=10'&gt;County Road 311,,United States&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5096396144408097746?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5096396144408097746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5096396144408097746' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5096396144408097746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5096396144408097746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-is-spiritual-something-or-other.html' title='it is a spiritual something or other'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3076176143190441060</id><published>2011-04-07T13:21:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T13:57:04.766-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a snail</title><content type='html'>Very funny things can happen when you least expect them :-). For instance the addition of my snail, Ganga, into my little tank. People laughed at me when I told them I got a snail. When I asked advice on naming said snail they proceeded to joke with silly names, Speedy, Zippy etc. OK OK I know it's a snail. However this snail was created by the same creator who made us. So... a couple of friends and I (Thank you Janelle and Tyler) googled good Indian names for my Golden India Snail. Ganga is the Hindu goddess attributed to the healing waters of the river Ganges. I know I have already told you all this before but in case you hadn't read the previous post I wanted you to be up to date. NOW to the point of this post :-).&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ganga is an INCREDIBLE snail! I mean totally remarkable. She goes everywhere! Firstly she is the prettiest snail I have honestly ever seen. Secondly she is a very active snail. She went into the geode and got stuck - I had to fish her out with a pair of chopsticks. She slinks along through the mini flower garden. She has climbed up the side of the geode, made it from the front of the tank to the back. Every time I look in the tank she is off in some other corner cleaning up the mess that Hrothgar and Beowulf have created. This is my point....sometimes joy and amusement come in very interesting packages. In all honesty I half agreed with my friends who laughed at my snail. When I dropped her in the tank I thought to myself - so if she never moves will I know if she is alive? How wrong I was! Maybe this is just proving to you all how simplistic I actually am. But I am finding fascination in this little life form, maybe the point I am attempting to say is give things a chance before you write them off. ;-) Anyways here are some photos to amuse you, really the amusement is most likely to come from the fact that A) I took them and B)texted them to some friends and finally C) posted them on here :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTGU_xPMe68/TZ4IrFtZqRI/AAAAAAAAASE/rmQJYWNYhhs/s1600/ganga3.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTGU_xPMe68/TZ4IrFtZqRI/AAAAAAAAASE/rmQJYWNYhhs/s320/ganga3.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592917323600734482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Y-F0nLkW3I/TZ4IrNHv39I/AAAAAAAAAR8/-qJfYc1u8X4/s1600/ganga2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Y-F0nLkW3I/TZ4IrNHv39I/AAAAAAAAAR8/-qJfYc1u8X4/s320/ganga2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592917325590290386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n6yadjhw1B0/TZ4IqxxY10I/AAAAAAAAAR0/jh75lOpjUes/s1600/ganga1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-n6yadjhw1B0/TZ4IqxxY10I/AAAAAAAAAR0/jh75lOpjUes/s320/ganga1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592917318248748866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3076176143190441060?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3076176143190441060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3076176143190441060' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3076176143190441060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3076176143190441060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-is-snail.html' title='it is a snail'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTGU_xPMe68/TZ4IrFtZqRI/AAAAAAAAASE/rmQJYWNYhhs/s72-c/ganga3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1909644379727970671</id><published>2011-04-03T19:51:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T19:51:28.999-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a Sunday</title><content type='html'>Today was a PERFECT Sunday. I slept til 1030 went to the local coffee shop (yes mine) and watched the latest episode of Fairly Legal (thanks for getting me hooked on that one Kel :-)). This coffee break was followed up by a trip to the pet store where I bought a new pal- a Golden India snail so after some deliberation and googling we decided to name her (we just guessed I sure hope she is a girl otherwise she might have and identity crisis and that would not be good...) Ganga after the healing goddess of the Ganges river in India. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/03/3231.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/03/s_3231.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hoping Ganga brings a little balance to the tank because the man at the pet store said the only other real option to make Beowulf happy would be to get him a little bigger and then get him a pond. Which I sadly do not have at the moment....&lt;br /&gt;After the trip to the pet store I went to Lowe's to get some plants to start my second annual garden ;-) I planted a million red onions, a handful of tomato plants a couple of basil plants and some pansies. I figure that's a pretty good start...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/03/3232.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/03/s_3232.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/03/3233.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/03/s_3233.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/03/3234.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/03/s_3234.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt; All day the sun beat down on my tank top clad back and happily pinked my skin. I washed my sheets and watched them billow in the wind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/03/3235.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/03/s_3235.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog and cat enjoyed the lazy afternoon outside. All in all what a wonderful day it was. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/03/3236.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/03/s_3236.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/04/03/3237.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/04/03/s_3237.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1909644379727970671?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1909644379727970671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1909644379727970671' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1909644379727970671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1909644379727970671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/04/it-is-sunday.html' title='it is a Sunday'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7115135742276269579</id><published>2011-03-30T10:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-30T10:20:19.093-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I need your help!</title><content type='html'>Hey guys! So while I have a little bit of time for myself I have decided to have a little bit of fun :-) One of the things I have always wanted to do is sing on a cruise ship. So......I've decided to go ahead and audition. Please check out my new blog, follow it, comment on the videos etc. It is still new, I just started working on it today. :-)&lt;div&gt;Thank you all for your support!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7115135742276269579?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7115135742276269579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7115135742276269579' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7115135742276269579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7115135742276269579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-need-your-help.html' title='I need your help!'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6066274738296496647</id><published>2011-03-25T00:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T21:56:40.285-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is men</title><content type='html'>I spent the last 6+ hours at a bar with a very very good friend of mine. We had the most interesting conversation with one of the bartenders, who upon seeing us walk into the restaurant said to his fellows "did you see that ginger hottie?" And decided to join us after his shift. &lt;br /&gt;He told us he said this and said that is why he was still here to talk to her, he then said he was sure it happened all the time to her but she just wasn't aware. Here comes the first tidbit of what I have learned about men, they all assume that the woman they are currently attracted to is surely a goddess and all men in the world are surely attracted to her as well. I have been told by men who have found me attractive that A) I just don't notice what the guys around me are doing to try to gain my attention B) that I am surely hit on all the time C) they cannot fathom why I am single because I am so beautiful surely some one would have snatched me up. All of these things are flattering but only partially true. :-)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;In our conversation with this bartender he began to open up and tell us his sad tale. His wife gained full custody of their child and took him to Hawaii and did not let the son contact his father until 3 judges ordered her to do so. He was explaining all the work, time, lawyers, private investigators etc that he has put into this so that for the first time in 2 years last week he was able to talk to his son on the phone. He was very stalwart about all of this his voice tone was very level he was hurt but not bitter, he was upset but not outraged. This conversation reminded me of a new friend I am happy to be getting to know. He also has a nasty ex who does whatever she can to upset his interaction with his children. He also does not sound bitter or raged. When we chat about this he is very level, though the pain is evident.  This brings me to the second tidbit I have learned about men. I have really always known this existed, my father is a fine example but it is nice to see it in different places to know that the "white stag" might be a rarity but really does exist, and that is that men are very strong. My friend and I were chatting on the drive home on how this bartender and my new friend both had a very quiet strength. They both work like dogs to support what they care for and what they know the are responsible for. They are not moping around crying poor me playing their little violins, which if you knew half of their stories you would agree with me is saying that they had every right to do so, instead they go to work pay the bills and try to make life a little better the next day even if they are just going to hit that same wall in the morning, they do it anyway. My father worked many a job in my lifetime often more than one at a time I admire him for his courage as I admire the afore mentioned two. I do not believe I would have that strength. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6066274738296496647?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6066274738296496647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6066274738296496647' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6066274738296496647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6066274738296496647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-men.html' title='it is men'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7050929867727772827</id><published>2011-03-24T09:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-24T16:25:23.527-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is the end hence it is the beginning</title><content type='html'>Today is the 4th to last day for me before I embark on my little adventure and leave my little shop, for a bit anyways. I realized as I told a customer to report back on their upcoming trip to Disney World that I would never get to know that story. Who here would know that she went, I wouldn't get to hear stories, see photos enjoy in her trip to the happiest place on earth. 'I should tell one of the Baristas to make sure they ask,' I thought. Then my next thought was as follows, 'This is why I have to leave I feel responsible for these people. I need to make sure that they feel remembered, respected, wanted, this is why I have to leave, I have to remember that my happiness is important as well, that I count, I matter, I am wanted by if no one else myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got into this little shop I told myself 5 years, we celebrated our 5th Anniversary the beginning of this month. And what a 5 years they have been! I think back on who I was when. I was a shy shy shy little 22 year old who knew very little of the world. I knew nothing about coffee, and had not a single idea on how to run a business. I was often flustered, I was often confused. My mother and I working side by side was so hard for both of us, trying to find a balance between mother &amp;amp; daughter / employee &amp;amp; boss. The first actual employees outside of the family, the training, the payroll, the taxes, the insurance, the ordering, the inventory, the firing, all of these things feeling my way through blindly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This little shop has been so wonderfully good on so many levels. I learned who I was, I feel like I might have a slightly better grip on the world, as least I am not afraid of it anymore. The people that have come through this, my little corner of the world, have changed and shaped me. I have been graced with friends, true honest to goodness friends who love me and who I have no doubt will continue to do so until I die. I have learned (am still learning) what it is to love, I have learned (am still learning) what it is to lose, I have found a voice, my voice, and I am not afraid of it. I have found how much I can take, and I found what it is to break. I found happiness and sadness, well I could continue but I'm thinking you get the general idea. I am both stronger and meeker since the doors opened on that auspicious March day in 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one hand I am very excited, I get to go discover myself in a different way, here is a newer version of me advancing into the great unknown. Before I was so naive but now I have knowledge to back up my leaps (I leap quickly and with quite some length). On the other hand I have this sense of failure. I feel like I am being weak, a pansy, a loser. I feel like I am just running away taking the easy way out. I know what I am doing is the right thing to do. Why is it that so often the right thing is the hard thing? I know that I need a break, I know that I need to care for myself, I know that it is actually &lt;i&gt;better&lt;/i&gt; for the shop for me to be gone. But there is still that little voice, &lt;i&gt;see, you knew you would fail why would you succeed? who are you anyways? Donald Trump?&lt;/i&gt; that rings in my head as I go to bed. I would like to say to that evil little voice DONALD TRUMP HAD TO START SOMEWHERE DIDN'T HE!?!?!? Not that I have any desire to be Mr Trump but I hope you catch my drift. :-) &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the end of the movie Eat Pray Love (I know you must all think I am obsessed with Elizabeth Gilbert at this point but I promise out of all the things in the world I &lt;i&gt;am &lt;/i&gt;obsessed with she is not one. However I do greatly admire her work) there is a line that says something like "if you view each person in your life as a teacher" I love that idea. Looking back on all my choices good and bad and all the people I have met along the way, those who have helped me those who have hurt me many of them are in (or not in my life anymore) because of this shop. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For all that these past 5 years have brought me I am grateful, yes in the end I am very grateful. I am scared and excited about the next phase. I will miss many people terribly during my absence. I will not miss others :-). I will find joy and happiness in my day again, I will remember how to breath, I will be stronger and better for this new chapter. I am sure there will be tears (I'm Italian I can't help but be emotional :-)), I am sure there will be laughter, I am sure I will both win and lose battles. But through it all I will have friends, love, and strength around me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wish me luck!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7050929867727772827?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7050929867727772827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7050929867727772827' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7050929867727772827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7050929867727772827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-end-hence-it-is-beginning.html' title='it is the end hence it is the beginning'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4999728270421081563</id><published>2011-03-23T06:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T06:22:58.251-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is old friends</title><content type='html'>The last several days I have spent a bit of time with some good old friends. Each and every one of these people have known me for at least 15 years. I once read it is important to keep old friends around that way you never forget your childhood or whence you've come. I can't remember who wrote that bit but for me I think he spoke truth. There is something very relaxing, almost settling about being around people who have known you so long.  They knew me trough my awkward puberty, they knew me through my arrogant teen years, and they accept me still as I am today. I realize I am quite lucky to have people like that in my life. So thank you to old friends may our friendship last many more years to come. And here's to new friends may we create memories to become old friends in the future! &lt;br /&gt;* that final line made me laugh but I'm afraid it's 6am and I cannot think of a better way to word it :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4999728270421081563?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4999728270421081563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4999728270421081563' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4999728270421081563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4999728270421081563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-old-friends.html' title='it is old friends'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-2986632647011628504</id><published>2011-03-21T07:40:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T22:02:32.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a fleeting memory</title><content type='html'>This morning as I was driving into work a song on the radio mentioned holding someone's hand. I remembered the first time I held Adam's hand I had reached out in urgency to prove a point and just when I was about to pull away I noticed he was staring at our hands clasped in front of us which is when I realized we were in fact holding hands. :-) I still get that little knot in my stomach thinking about the happy moments we had. Then comes the pain of all that was destroyed and the heartache that followed all the joy. There is not a single bit of me that doubts we are not supposed to be together. But still he is sometimes missed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-2986632647011628504?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2986632647011628504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=2986632647011628504' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2986632647011628504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2986632647011628504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-fleeting-memory.html' title='it is a fleeting memory'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7412376095657502739</id><published>2011-03-19T16:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T17:31:35.385-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is female insanity</title><content type='html'>Dear heavens - Sometimes I wish that I, well, was perfect :-). Which of course I realize I will never achieve. Ugh I hate it when all my faults seem to come to the surface in one big voluminous eruption of crazy. You know that part in You've Got Mail when she finally lets Tom Hanks have it, all her rage and stress and emotions just blast out of her, yeah totally went there. I am such an IDIOT sometimes! Sigh well maybe someday on this road of life discovery I'll figure out how to control my hormotions. But until that point I would like to apologize to all of you who I snapped on. I promise to try harder. &lt; 3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7412376095657502739?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7412376095657502739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7412376095657502739' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7412376095657502739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7412376095657502739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-female-insanity.html' title='it is female insanity'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3970017199392362767</id><published>2011-03-18T19:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T07:14:43.515-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is life and boy if it isn't a messy one</title><content type='html'>these last few days have been exhausting. I don't know why. Every day I wake up I am more tired then when I went to sleep. I feel very very alone. I know I have said that before, but it is as true now as it was then. Possibly truer. &lt;div&gt;Life is MESSY. We should never be under the delusion that it is otherwise. Have you ever seen the movie About a Boy? One of my favorites. I should watch that tonight when I get home. Anyways. In this movie Hugh Grant believes that man is an island and men who decide to attach themselves to other people are going against nature. Then this boy comes along who after his mother attempts suicide decides that there needs to be more than 2 people in a family unit, that way if one person goes off the deep end there will still be someone to lean on and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;vice&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;versa&lt;/span&gt;. He picks Hugh Grant to add to his family unit. Kids, they are often a lot smarter than we give them credit for. Anyways all this is to say the kid is right. THE ONLY WAY we will ever get through this life is with someone to fight shoulder to shoulder with us. Some one who can take the lead if our arm gets tired of holding the machete and cutting the spiderwebs (this reminds me of a Gwen Stephanie song :-)). We all need someone else and in my exhausted, over extended, stressed past all reasoning state I am just wondering....where is this person?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3970017199392362767?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3970017199392362767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3970017199392362767' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3970017199392362767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3970017199392362767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-life-and-boy-if-it-isnt-messy-one.html' title='it is life and boy if it isn&amp;#39;t a messy one'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1026920878233460172</id><published>2011-03-16T07:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-16T16:58:22.156-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heaven'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bali'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ketut'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='elizabeth gilbert'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eat pray love'/><title type='text'>it is a circle</title><content type='html'>Last year I read Eat, Pray, Love. Great book, even though I am sure some of you have differing opinions but after all are entitled. During her travels to Bali she visits an old medicine man, Ketut, he was talking about meditation and in his meditation he has gone both down and up, meaning he has gone both to heaven and hell. When asked what hell is like he stated it is the same as heaven, love. He said the difference is that to get to heaven you go through seven happy places while to get hell you go through seven sad places. At first when I read this I thought - CRAZY! There is a place for good people and a place for bad. Hitler is in hell, Mother Theresa is in heaven. End of story. I have often thought about this idea. Tossed it back and forth in my head, could it possibly be right? My father has often told me that we should always leave room in our thinking for the possibility that we are wrong. I often fail but I at least attempt.  The little church group that has prominence in our town focuses a lot of their practice on the end times. They are very caught up in the final battle, signs of evil and and the like. A friend of mine stated, do they know that Jesus defeated the devil already? Of course we have all heard the story, Jesus having been willing to go to the cross defeated death and all it's power. He then went down and fought with the devil and rose victorious. Right. OK. BUT there are still bad people in the world, women who pimp out their kids for drugs, men who beat and rape their wives, people who plan mass murders, children who murder children, politicians who conduct genocide, religious who promote suicide don't these people DESERVE to go to hell? I was reading my current thrill "Borrower of the Night" by Elizabeth Peters and in it she  was describing the torture the peasants were put through during the Peasant's Revolt in Germany during the great schism of the church. As she was describing these people who implemented this torture I thought to myself 'Oh I hope these people are burning right now.' WHAT?! Becca why are you wishing ill on these people that God loves just as much as you? In that moment was I any better then the torturers, I was wanting them to be burning for all eternity in a terrible place where their sins would be rubbed in their face over and over again. HOW TERRIBLE IS THAT! If I believe that I deserve grace then don't these humble beings as well? Would I like my sins and imperfections rubbed in my face day after day forever and ever? If we really want to be honest all of us deserve to rot in a dungeon for the pain we have caused on God's creation. We hurt our friends, we say mean things to our families, we treat our "enemies" like they &lt;i&gt;are&lt;/i&gt; the devil. I know I have been guilty of all of the above and more. If God loves each and every one of us equally and He loves us all unconditionally then wouldn't his forgiveness extend very very far past the reaches of mine? Remember the murderer who was hanging on the cross? Jesus forgave him in an instant with the full knowledge of what he had done. Catholics believe in purgatory, easiest way I grasp it is a cleansing of the soul to be prepared to see God. So let's take that into consideration in regards to Ketut's idea of the circle. Maybe he is right. Maybe the really mean people spend a long time in the 7 sad places before they get to sit in the all encompassing power of God's love where as the general population gets to go through the 7 happy places. Or maybe he was smoking too much hookah (I have no idea if he smokes hookah) one day. I don't know, doubtful I ever will but it is a thought worth pondering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1026920878233460172?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1026920878233460172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1026920878233460172' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1026920878233460172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1026920878233460172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-circle.html' title='it is a circle'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8881279681296463242</id><published>2011-03-11T14:36:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-11T16:47:55.732-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is prison</title><content type='html'>I am sitting here watching CSI poaching internet off of a neighbor all curled up on my sofa. This episode takes place in prison. I always love these episodes, they always seem a little bit more intense or exciting. My theory behind this added entertainment is because prison is a world so beyond myself, a subkingdom in the US that I know very little about. In psych class in college the teacher was talking about the US prison system and what part worked and why it most often didn't. It was an interesting debate, how often people get better care in prison hence making it a "good idea" to stay in. Fascinating. To me it seems like the ABSOLUTELY WORST idea ever. I was talking to a new friend the other day and he told me he had been arrested twice. Once was in TX and his 12 hold was the longest 12 hours of his life. The other was in his home state and it was highly enjoyable, good food, friends from high school etc. I was arrested once (SURPRISE!) it was for a non-payment of a ticket, actually I had payed the ticket but late and I did the math wrong (CURSE MY MATH INABILITY), anyway I cried and cried and cried. It was SO humiliating. When I told my friend this he laughed and laughed and laughed :-). I did not have to stay in jail, I was released and told to pay my fine within the week. But it was one of the worst experiences in my life. All this is to say I NEVER wish to be on the inside of a prison cell. I will stick with my CSI fix :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8881279681296463242?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8881279681296463242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8881279681296463242' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8881279681296463242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8881279681296463242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-prison.html' title='it is prison'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3347350347506878417</id><published>2011-03-10T06:59:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T07:04:48.431-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is pansyness</title><content type='html'>Life is often hard. I feel like I've said this before :-). I have a good life. I  have family and friends who love me. I have a roof over my  head, critters that I can love and care for, an almost unlimited supply of coffee. Yet there is stress in my life. I know people who have a harder life than I and when I have a breakdown and then think about them I feel like a pansy. I think I might be a pansy. Huh, well what am I going to do about this pansyness?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3347350347506878417?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3347350347506878417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3347350347506878417' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3347350347506878417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3347350347506878417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-pansyness.html' title='it is pansyness'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4000532419928175885</id><published>2011-03-04T18:25:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-04T18:36:07.849-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is the passing of time</title><content type='html'>Einstein said the reason for time is so that everything does not happen at once. &lt;div&gt;My life, though it is barely yet lived has been full. Full of love, full of pain, full of laughter, full of joy, full of tears, full of friends, of family, of peace, of distress. And all of these things come with the passing of time. As time passes we change. As time passes water cuts stone and creates canyons. Sometimes, well I'll be honest often, I am impatient I want things to happen to move to be done NOW. :-) I highly doubt I will ever master this virtue. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have had a great life. Better than most. I have people in my life I can rely on. I have love around every corner. I am secure in who I am and who I have been shaped to be. However I still get scared, I still feel insecure, and I still need love. As my time here on this lonely planet continues on I am constantly amused and amazed. It makes the Greek belief that we were created for the gods to have something to watch as their eternity lulled on understandable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My life is moving forward I am entering into a new chapter, the closing chapter to this volume of my life. I am both scared and excited to see what time will bring me. Time will only tell. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4000532419928175885?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4000532419928175885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4000532419928175885' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4000532419928175885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4000532419928175885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/03/it-is-passing-of-time.html' title='it is the passing of time'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5083120749013530967</id><published>2011-02-25T09:59:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T10:25:13.376-06:00</updated><title type='text'>FISHIES!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Leq6hQi7u8U/TWfXxKDXHJI/AAAAAAAAAQA/r0aLh0o6MtQ/s1600/fishies.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Leq6hQi7u8U/TWfXxKDXHJI/AAAAAAAAAQA/r0aLh0o6MtQ/s320/fishies.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577663903033662610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Welcome Home Beowulf and Hrothgar :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5083120749013530967?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5083120749013530967/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5083120749013530967' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5083120749013530967'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5083120749013530967'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/02/it-is-new-friends.html' title='FISHIES!'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Leq6hQi7u8U/TWfXxKDXHJI/AAAAAAAAAQA/r0aLh0o6MtQ/s72-c/fishies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4964656670654716769</id><published>2011-02-23T08:31:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T07:33:37.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it's been a long while</title><content type='html'>I have been trying to hash out this blog for weeks and with no luck. So here is a very possibly failed attempt but I need to get it out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February has been an interesting month. I'm not sure how to explain all that I have gone through this month. I finally feel like I have walked away happily from Adam. The final straw was place on the camel's back and it broke me, crumpled me. But when I got up there was no weight on me at all, not a shred. It was quite relieving actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joined a chat site because I was bored. I met some entertaining people, I was proposed to twice, asked to take my shirt off countless times, asked to fly to wherever to have sex with whomever. I wasn't bored anymore, saying no to countless suitors does boost the ego and provide a laugh :-). There are a lot of interesting people in the world. Three weeks of this entertainment proved to be enough and I left the site. Before I did however I met a really nice guy. I hope his life turns out wonderfully. He deserves it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm exceptionally tired. I'm tired of people, I'm tired of people. Yesterday two customers had a 30 minute conversation about the end of the world, what foods should you plant, how should it be distributed yadayadayada this is an almost daily occurrence. The other day some friends and I drove through the caves at Park University it was then stated that when the apocalypse comes this is where one of my friends is planning on living and that some of his friends were already stockpiling food to feed the city for up to two years. This whole town lives for the end. I have been told countless times my numerous people that they are just tired of waiting and that they pray Jesus would come back today, this week, this month, soon, so that they can be together in perfect harmony. The friends of mine who have made this statement swear it is not suicidal, I think they have lost it. Why not live life? Why not enjoy the short time we have here? Why are they living for the end? This whole community of "Christians" are living a life focused on death, not the life that God has given them and I am tired of hearing about it. "Did you see the lights over Jerusalem? It means the end is coming!" "Did you hear what so&amp;amp;so prophet said on such&amp;amp;such website? It means the end is near!" "Did you hear about the potential solar storm? It means the end is near!" Did you see the grass is green?? It means the end is near!" I am so tired of hearing about death and destruction. I feel that they are missing out on incredible gifts God has given them in this life because they are focused on the hereafter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am well aware that location does not make one happy, nor better. However I feel stagnant where I am in now. I need a change, which is a lot coming from a person who generally avoids change and has freak outs when plans lurch in a different direction, but I think it is time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother asked me a few weeks ago what my goals were in life, the conclusion was made I was goal-less. Which is true. I don't really see this as a bad thing, it is just where I am at in my life. I am aware that this lack of direction may be causing some of my anxiety of late however I don't see the point of having a goal that is determined by someone else's life seeing as I have no control over that at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am amazed at the number of people who have never fallen in love. Even married ones, even people who are married to each other. I am not saying that these people do not love each other in their marriage, they do. But they never felt that dizzy, head over heels, crazy, out of their mind, passionate, life won't be the same without you feeling. For all that we are taught growing up with all the princess stories and songs and movies, and books few people I know ever actually fell in love, and if they did they very rarely married that person. My whole world regarding love, and lets face it my world has a lot to do with love, has been shaken. I don't know what I actually think on the subject. I would like to say all those people who fell in love with someone else, had their heart broken and then married the next comparable mate is a fool, but seeing as I have no actual experience regarding this and I am human therefore prone to err I would have to say I may be wrong. I would like to say to all those people that married because it was the next logical step, or who married because "God" told them to they are freaking morons, but because I have no experience in this situation and because, as I stated before, I am human I must say I may be wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel that the more I learn about life the less I know about it. Wasn't it Galileo who said the more he learned about the universe the more confident he was that there was a god? Because in all it's vastness we more mortals could not even hope to comprehend? I think he is right, about God and the mere mortals statement. We are so tiny and insignificant in the grand scheme of the whole universe, made up of gazillions of stars, billions of galaxies, trillions of planets and millions of life forms. And yet we are able to gather so much beauty in our short little lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to a friend yesterday about what we wanted or rather needed to be happy. I know I have said this often, but I don't want to be the biggest fish in the biggest pond. I just want to be a happy fish in my little pond. Do I need a million dollar mansion and hundreds of acres with dozens of horses all out on parade all the time? An Adonis for a husband and perfect beautiful children? No. No I do not need that, nor do I want that. I want my horses in my back yard and a man who loves me who has actually fallen in love with me and I with him (I am well aware that this might be a terribly silly hopeless romantic idea but I am going to hold to it for now until proven otherwise), maybe kids I am constantly going back and forth on this sometimes yes sometimes no more often yes lately (Mom I guess you were right), I'm not afraid of hard work I'll help the household as needed, I am not afraid of hard times I'll go to hell and back if needed. But that is really it. Just a little slice of happiness in my pond wherever that pond may end up being.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4964656670654716769?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4964656670654716769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4964656670654716769' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4964656670654716769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4964656670654716769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/02/its-been-long-while.html' title='it&apos;s been a long while'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8481867366440352925</id><published>2011-02-18T16:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T16:12:20.006-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ee cummings</title><content type='html'>in spite of evrything&lt;br /&gt;which breathes and moves,since Do&lt;br /&gt;(with white longest hands&lt;br /&gt;neating each crease)&lt;br /&gt;will smooth entirely our minds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-before leaving my room&lt;br /&gt;i turn,and(stooping&lt;br /&gt;through the morning)kiss&lt;br /&gt;this pillow,dear&lt;br /&gt;where our heads lived and were.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8481867366440352925?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8481867366440352925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8481867366440352925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8481867366440352925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8481867366440352925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/02/ee-cummings.html' title='ee cummings'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4291826417618852473</id><published>2011-02-01T19:40:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T19:40:46.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a chance decision</title><content type='html'>Every single day we are faced with choices. The decisions we make in regard to those choices will define us not only in that moment but for years to come. In a heartbeat we can reroute our lives. We can choose to be good or bad, kind or hurtful, a hero or a coward. Because we are imperfect in an imperfect world we often make mistakes. So when a choice is presented be careful. Very often in life we are not given second chances, but if a second chance does appear we must take it. Learn from our mistakes and make the right choice. I hope to be a person who does just that. Learn from my mistakes. And I hope that more often I will choose the high road over the low, bravery over cowardice and love over hate. Life is short, very short. We should make the most of what we have. We shouldn’t waste our time. If there is something you need to do, someone you need to say something to I beg you to do it. I pray you stand up and do what needs to be done. Very often we allow chances to miss us. Very often we sit back and do nothing. Don’t. Stop. Pick yourself up and grab life. Don’t let it pass you by. Do not be afraid of possible pain or possible failure. If we never try we can never succeed. And if we never succeed we will never find, happiness, joy, love or any of the sweet things in life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4291826417618852473?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4291826417618852473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4291826417618852473' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4291826417618852473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4291826417618852473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/02/it-is-chance-decision.html' title='it is a chance decision'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4869152644262388082</id><published>2011-01-29T22:31:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T14:50:17.749-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a little jazz</title><content type='html'>Tonight I sang at my little shop. I haven't done a show in FOREVER and was a little bit nervous as to how my voice would hold out. But all in all it was a great show. Had a blast. Skyped a friend in CAN and Skyped a sis in CO. It was fun to have some of my close friends who are far away near by for an evening :-). &lt;br /&gt;I am still at my little shop - I took some quiet time by myself here taking those breathes that were alluded to in the previous post. I was watching an Episode of Bones, my current therapy of choice. Anyways the show ended and I was wrapping up my stuff to head home. And I looked around at the little shop all tucked in for the night, most of the lights off, all the furniture neatly back where it belongs. And I thought about how it looked a mere 45 minutes ago. Crammed with people, laughing, talking, eating. And a little wave of contentedness washed over me. Like right after you have eaten the perfect, savory, rich and not too much. That complete satisfaction. &lt;br /&gt;Well it is time for this little jazz singer to go home - it was an awesome night. Thanks to all of you who came out :-).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="224" &gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/10150129078481101" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/10150129078481101" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="224"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4869152644262388082?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4869152644262388082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4869152644262388082' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4869152644262388082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4869152644262388082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-is-little-jazz.html' title='it is a little jazz'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1532663827723952789</id><published>2011-01-27T20:43:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-27T20:47:13.640-06:00</updated><title type='text'>21</title><content type='html'>Life is hard sometimes. Take a deep breath count to ten and start over again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1532663827723952789?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1532663827723952789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1532663827723952789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1532663827723952789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1532663827723952789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/01/21.html' title='21'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4813786758254198725</id><published>2011-01-22T19:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-22T20:22:54.481-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is sara bareillis</title><content type='html'>Lately I've been driving a lot. Mainly because I moved my two boys down to a friends farm 1 hour south of home and have been driving down to see them weekly. These two hours a week by myself and left alone in my own head have proven to be very therapeutic. Anyways as I was driving there yesterday I was cranking out my Sara Bareillis Kaleidescope Heart album. I was thinking about the lyrics to one of my favorite songs on the CD "Gonna Get Over You". Much of that song sums up a lot of the emotion I felt after Adam and I stopped being what we were not. Her feelings of calling it quits long before she actually did, hanging on to the word maybe and so on. The Song before this on the album "Uncharted" she talks about the depth of the pain she felt from this the worst and hardest heartbreak of all. Most of the album is about a wretched breakup and every color of the rainbow emotion that is felt during the ripping and repairing process. The saddest song on the album is without question "Breathe Again". I am very happy to say I do not cry anymore when I hear that song but that has only been in the month - as I have stated many a time before I am quite the emotional sap. ANYWAYS as I was listening to these songs and recognizing that she felt many of the same emotions that I felt I started thinking about the other girls who listen to this album and feel the same way. That is when I had an epiphany - we are all the same. Sure I know that is a blanket statement full of untruths because of course we are not ALL the same but we are all similar. Especially when it comes to our emotions. This of course has been proven by such people as Paul Ekman and the like. Anyways thats it. When you feel like you are the only one who has felt this way before know that you are not alone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4813786758254198725?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4813786758254198725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4813786758254198725' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4813786758254198725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4813786758254198725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-is-sara-bareillis.html' title='it is sara bareillis'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3502160034507028369</id><published>2011-01-17T20:14:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T20:20:49.288-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is family</title><content type='html'>I realized tonight as I was sitting watching a "Bones" episode throughout this CRAZY year I have learned much. Very much. But one thing I have learned, a lesson I hope I will never forget is this. My family is incredible. With all our arguments and crazy events they will stick through it with me, have my back and stand shoulder to shoulder. It doesn't mean they won't call me out, keep me humble and knock me off my high horse when needed. &lt;br /&gt;So I would just like to say... THANK YOU to my family. I am lucky, very lucky to have each and every one of you as part of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3502160034507028369?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3502160034507028369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3502160034507028369' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3502160034507028369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3502160034507028369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-is-family.html' title='it is family'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-9076168420339737452</id><published>2011-01-17T06:12:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T07:38:04.860-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is men....and women</title><content type='html'>I wrote a long long long blog over the course of three days to attempt to put all my thoughts on this subject down. I came up with Biblical references, musical quips, pop culture trivia and about 2 pages of my general ramblings. At the end of this blog I looked back and realized I sounded like I was making myself an authority on a subject I know nothing about. So here's what I will sum it all up to. We, as a human race, need to learn how to take care of each other's hearts.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-9076168420339737452?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/9076168420339737452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=9076168420339737452' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/9076168420339737452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/9076168420339737452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-is-menand-women.html' title='it is men....and women'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4155515001446516893</id><published>2011-01-06T07:35:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T07:35:34.897-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is stitch</title><content type='html'>You all know I have horses and they are each unique and different. Those of you who don't have pets wouldn't quite understand and you might be rolling your eyes at this point saying "oh she's one of those people". &lt;br /&gt;Moving on. &lt;br /&gt;Stitch - he is my very handsome ex-racehorse with generally 3 working legs. You see an acquaintance of mine bought him from PA where he arrived broken and was subsequently tossed "out to pasture", due to a misdiagnosis by her vet, where he was expected to live out the rest of his days enjoying grass and sunshine in a constant state of pain. At some point she tired of paying for a horse of whom she got no pleasure from and was planning to ship him off to auction where he was sure to wind up at the butchers being several hundred pounds underweight and 3-legged lame. Well you see, I had become a little attached to the guy visiting the stable and he had a cute face and a good personality and believing that he was misdiagnosed I bought him. I had my vet out, but unfortunately the correct diagnosis was no better and expensive surgery that had a 50/50 chance of working. So Stitchy has been put on numerous herbal supplements, steroids and whatnot to keep him happy and comfortable as he lives his life merrily with his best friend Bodyguard. &lt;br /&gt;Stitch was given his name by my sister. He is named after the little sometimes evil alien Disney character. Cut of course but he bit, kicked and was generally a hell raiser. After a few months of arguing he was finally won over with cookies and grain and is quite lovable now. However if you are ever doing something he would rather not have done instead of biting he tilts his head to one side and grinds his teeth. He sleeps curled up in a ball in often the muddiest spit he can find. The other day however he was curled up in a big pile of hay and my friend went out to give him his breakfast she sat down next to him and he put his head in her lap and let her rub his ears. The other day we got him out to put him through his paces to see how he was feeling. I do this for two reasons 1) you never know when a miraculous healing might occur and 2) if no miracles have happened then we need to make sure his meds are at the proper dosage. As he was trotting along haphazardly (no miracle yet) he kept looking at me standing in the middle of the ring with a look that can only be described as a glare. As he got to the end of the long side he stopped, sighed, looked out to the pasture than back to me and ground his teeth. What a little punk. :-). Even though he is generally lame on a good day he can come out and go for a nice walk. My sister was riding him and he apparently was bored because he began twisting his head from side to side while taking big exaggerated steps. One of the funniest things I ever saw a horse do. He is also the only horse I have ever seen be able to scratch his ear with his hind leg like a dog. The first time this event occurred I didn't believe it. He is a little socially awkward and doesn't make new horsey friends easily. But if a person goes out in the pasture he is the first to come say hi sniff all your pockets and follow you around like a shadow. All in all I am very happy he is in my life. He makes me smile every time I see him :-).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align='center'&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.youtube.com/v/vOf-hPMu3CQ" width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vOf-hPMu3CQ" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;!-- Fallback content --&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOf-hPMu3CQ"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/vOf-hPMu3CQ/0.jpg" width="400" height="300" /&gt;YouTube Video&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/06/1019.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/06/s_1019.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/06/1020.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/06/s_1020.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/06/1021.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/06/s_1021.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/06/1022.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/11/01/06/s_1022.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4155515001446516893?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4155515001446516893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4155515001446516893' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4155515001446516893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4155515001446516893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-is-stitch.html' title='it is stitch'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5226662799086714595</id><published>2011-01-04T08:14:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T09:46:25.412-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is divorce</title><content type='html'>For some reason today several of my customers have been talking about divorce. It is sad really. That was one of Adam's fears, divorce. He is afraid to get married in case it leads to divorce. I guess that is actually a lot of people's fear. I don't blame them. I have seen a lot of people go through divorce. I have seen a lot of people get married. Sometimes the act of the wedding was the problem and the divorce was the saving grace. Sometimes people just choose badly. Sometimes people really do love each other and they really try to make it work. Sometimes outside forces shove people apart. My dad said that his work as a counselor showed that the majority of divorce came from one person putting the love of their self over their love of the other person. Even if the couple is miserably unhappy divorce is still sad and painful. I recently read "Eat, Pray, Love" in it Elizabeth Gilbert describes in detail the pain she felt through her divorce. The raw emotion that she describes through the whole ordeal often brought a tear to my eye. I'm not sure why I am writing or what I want to tell. But I guess as the new year is starting it is sad to see how many books are ending. Of course with every ending there is a beginning. But beginnings are often difficult. I hope this year for all of you ends up being good, even if the beginning seems to be tearing things apart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5226662799086714595?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5226662799086714595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5226662799086714595' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5226662799086714595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5226662799086714595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-is-divorce.html' title='it is divorce'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3441327537849408996</id><published>2010-12-31T07:32:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T13:55:26.462-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is firsts</title><content type='html'>Here is a list of some of the firsts that I have done this year.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sang karaoke.&lt;br /&gt;Sang at an open mic night.&lt;br /&gt;Ate sushi, real sushi not the fake stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Rented a car.&lt;br /&gt;Read a book, cover to cover on the beach. &lt;br /&gt;Waxed my legs.&lt;br /&gt;Bought and then subsequently wore a thong.&lt;br /&gt;Grew tomatoes.&lt;br /&gt;Ordered a martini at a bar. &lt;br /&gt;Fell in love.&lt;br /&gt;Had my heartbroken.&lt;br /&gt;Made latkes.&lt;br /&gt;Went on a date with a stranger.&lt;br /&gt;Drank Dom Perignon&lt;br /&gt;Saw a Harry Potter film in theaters.&lt;br /&gt;Ate a beet and liked it.&lt;br /&gt;Learned to play black jack. &lt;br /&gt;Was offered a cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;Ate an oyster and didn't like it.&lt;br /&gt;Drank a gin and tonic. &lt;br /&gt;Drank a whisky and soda, I felt just like Amelia Peabody :-)&lt;br /&gt;Kissed a boy. &lt;br /&gt;Fell in love with blue cheese. &lt;br /&gt;Made fresh pasta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope your year was full of great fun and I hope this next year is better than the last. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3441327537849408996?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3441327537849408996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3441327537849408996' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3441327537849408996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3441327537849408996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/12/it-is-firsts.html' title='it is firsts'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7392523528187993618</id><published>2010-12-31T06:58:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-31T13:55:36.747-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is looking for love, in all the wrong places</title><content type='html'>I've been listening to the radio a lot lately. Not sure why, the car I am presently driving has a CD player and I have stocked it chock full of Cold Play, Ingrid, Mumford, Imogen, Tim McGraw and the like yet for some reason I've been listening to the DJ's actually paying attention to Usher lyrics and singing along to Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros. These last few weeks I've been on a path of self-discovery. Actually this can be said of my entire year however this past month has felt different. I am struggling with selfishness, forgiveness and forgetting somethings and remembering others. One of the things I am learning about the world is how exactly it views love. During the whole mess with Adam and I, the most painfully obvious bit was that he didn't value, want or maybe appreciate is the right word, my love. As I've been listening to the songs climbing the charts I'm realizing that the world views love differently than I. They use the word to often, too quickly and not with the weight my love actually means. As Usher is pumping out DJ's got us falling in love, I'm thinking of what type of love that is. It most assuredly isn't deep passionate 'til death love. One of my favorite movies is Paris Je t'aime (don't bother with the sequel New York I Love you, it's not worth it). The film consists of several shorts each telling a story of a kind of love, in the city of love. They express love in tolerance, acceptance, trust, passion, family, loss, infatuation. There is a reason each of these words exist but as the DJ's play song after song about one night stands, summer flings, winter rendezvous and passionate affairs all the song lyricists use the same word, L-O-V-E. (Before you go off and say, this is just the age we live in, people just don't know what it is to love anymore, I remember the good old days, stop. These songs and these ideas of shallow love have existed since the beginning of time.) I know I am not alone in the world, viewing love the way I do. I know there are men and women out there who believe that love is more than a psychical attraction, more than a chemical reaction and lasts longer than a day, a month, or a year. I think that is one of the issues I am fighting with myself on right now. I don't want Adam anymore, mainly because he has made it painfully clear he doesn't want me. But how do you stop loving someone? And does that make me a fool either way? If I stop loving him what does that make my love? Fickle, fair weather? But he doesn't love or want me so doesn't that make me a bigger fool to still love him? It is coming on a new year. Last year this time I made a resolution to not live in regrets. To take risks, to take chances, to live. And I have. I have done a lot of that. It was good. It was hard. It has been worth it. Now this coming year I will resolve to learn to let go, and then most important of all how to forgive myself for doing so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7392523528187993618?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7392523528187993618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7392523528187993618' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7392523528187993618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7392523528187993618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/12/it-is-looking-for-love-in-all-wrong.html' title='it is looking for love, in all the wrong places'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-2090280025189325653</id><published>2010-12-26T11:21:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T11:36:32.489-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is PASTA PASTA PASTA!!!</title><content type='html'>HAHA! Well I hope you all had a ver very merry Christmas. I sure did. It was full of family friends and food. Who can ask for more? Best present was most assuredly the pasta maker and cuisinart from my parents. Oh and the pasta was YUMMY! I cannot wait to try the million recipes I have back logged in my head involving fresh ravioli. YUMMMMY! :-) We cooked for about 4 hours and ate for about 10. We concluded the night sword-fighting on the Wii. It was so much fun and we were so tired when we finally collapsed into very happy slumbers. &lt;br /&gt;Merry Merry Holidays everyone. May this next year bring more joy, more laughter, more happiness and much more peace than ever before. And of course more pasta :-)&lt;br /&gt;Ciao, &lt;br /&gt;Bex &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd89XO7hII/AAAAAAAAAP0/x3X4hbpnveg/s1600/PC250270.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd89XO7hII/AAAAAAAAAP0/x3X4hbpnveg/s320/PC250270.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555046059035296898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd89PffyCI/AAAAAAAAAPs/znIehHFCl1c/s1600/PC250275.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd89PffyCI/AAAAAAAAAPs/znIehHFCl1c/s320/PC250275.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555046056957298722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd884LsLiI/AAAAAAAAAPk/0AGcvTsblGk/s1600/PC250278.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd884LsLiI/AAAAAAAAAPk/0AGcvTsblGk/s320/PC250278.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555046050700209698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd88s-vvWI/AAAAAAAAAPc/5GTe8UCxL6I/s1600/PC250280.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd88s-vvWI/AAAAAAAAAPc/5GTe8UCxL6I/s320/PC250280.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555046047693127010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd8Qvp3TLI/AAAAAAAAAPU/em4RZV0AOXI/s1600/PC250277.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd8Qvp3TLI/AAAAAAAAAPU/em4RZV0AOXI/s320/PC250277.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555045292496604338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-2090280025189325653?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2090280025189325653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=2090280025189325653' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2090280025189325653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2090280025189325653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/12/it-is-pasta-pasta-pasta.html' title='it is PASTA PASTA PASTA!!!'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TRd89XO7hII/AAAAAAAAAP0/x3X4hbpnveg/s72-c/PC250270.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3153274513929577071</id><published>2010-12-09T08:40:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T10:12:51.004-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a dreaming mind and a hurting heart</title><content type='html'>So to continue my dream saga of last week, I had a dream about Adam. I don't remember the dream contents much just that we hugged (big hugging theme last week, apparently I've been needing more hugs in my life). In the dream my skin itched with missing his touch. I heard it described really well in a film the other day - electric velvet. But my heart, my heart felt like it was trying to force itself into a puzzle piece that it didn't belong. It shoved and squished itself into his piece but it was so uncomfortable it popped back out and then I pushed him away. I felt like this dream pretty much summed up how I've been feeling lately. I am at war with myself. My physical misses him so much but my head and my heart says we don't fit. I know they are right. I know I'm on the path to healing. I know it will only get better with time. I know all these things but it doesn't mean I don't ache, that my arms don't want to hold him and my head doesn't want to rest on his shoulder. &lt;br /&gt;He's been coming into my little shop quite frequently lately. I told him he could, and it was fine for a bit. But now, it just hurts. I don't know what to do about it. I feel rude when I don't talk to him. But talking to him seems to make it worse. I don't know what to do. Je ne sais pas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3153274513929577071?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3153274513929577071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3153274513929577071' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3153274513929577071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3153274513929577071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/12/it-is-dreaming-mind-and-hurting-heart.html' title='it is a dreaming mind and a hurting heart'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-9081829156145409652</id><published>2010-12-03T22:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-12-03T23:00:29.548-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is an attempt</title><content type='html'>I've been trying to write this blog for days now. I am not sure I have it all situated in my head to say what I feel needs to be said but I am going to try. &lt;div&gt;It is almost Christmas. And so Christmas music is playing on half of the radio stations and the stores are over stuffed with plush toys, ribbons and fir trees. In fact as I am sitting here I am in my little shop, alone, I have turned off all the glaring fluorescents and left my 1100 twinkle lights shining with my Christmas play list blaring through my iPod. It is almost magical actually. I love it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have had a couple of interesting dreams the last few days. The first was maybe Monday, I had a dream that I hugged six people. There was no connectivity in this dream, just random snippets of scenes in where I would hug so and so and each person/hug was met with a wash of a different emotion. So I set out to hug these people, for two reasons 1) I knew all these people and all but 1 I have hugged before, so it wouldn't be so awkward and 2) because it is a dream that could come true and who doesn't want that. I have hugged 4 of the 6 and what I find interesting is that each emotion that I felt in the dream has touched me in each hug I have so far performed. I am interested to find out about the last two, their emotions in the dream were hard to decipher. The second dream I had this past week that has haunted me a bit was a that a friend of mine asked me why I loved so many things. The first thing that came out of my mouth in the dream was "because God does." This is not an answer I think I would have come up with on my own in my conscious mind so it has left me pondering why I really do love the random things I love and is it simply because God does. If I am going to use that logic I would have to love everything and since it is entirely impossible for me to love every single thing in the world (especially mosquitoes, hairy spiders, little sneaky spiders, serial killers and pedophiles)  I've determined this is a faulty reason. So I am on a little path of self-discovery and dream fulfilling this week. I kindo like it. :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight I was able to do one of my most favorite Christmas traditions, blasting Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas and dance like a mad woman while closing my little shop.  What was most fun about tonight was that two girls joined me :-) Thank you AK and AM for boogie-ing down with me tonight. It was the first time I really felt in the Christmas spirit this year. I needed that overwhelming, crazy, out of control, santa clause is coming to town joy that Christmas is. You have no idea how happy my little heart was to share that moment, you made it a memory I won't forget until I am old and gray and have forgotten my own name :-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This year has been a great year, a year of first, A LOT of firsts. Some bad, most good. Good or bad I wouldn't not have want to go through them. And tonight as I am sitting in my little shop and my twinkle lights are sparkling and the most wretched rendition of Oh Holy Night is playing over the iPod (I really must go through my Christmas music better next year) I am filled with anticipation of next year. Hopefully it will be full of new firsts and maybe a few repeats. &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/9039801796514150049-9081829156145409652?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/9081829156145409652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=9081829156145409652' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/9081829156145409652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/9081829156145409652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/12/it-is-attempt.html' title='it is an attempt'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6806441682637406606</id><published>2010-11-28T10:57:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-28T11:22:08.072-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Wedding Bells rang yesterday for a very dear friend of mine. Congratulations!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers to Jenna and Tyler! May the years together be many!&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;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPTpXFqyI/AAAAAAAAAPI/CSP7U3EJJlg/s1600/PB270264.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPTpXFqyI/AAAAAAAAAPI/CSP7U3EJJlg/s320/PB270264.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544651658929482530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPTRz5cKI/AAAAAAAAAPA/NYxgnW76J78/s1600/PB270246.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPTRz5cKI/AAAAAAAAAPA/NYxgnW76J78/s320/PB270246.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544651652607864994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPTJe021I/AAAAAAAAAO4/8-gG62dtPZg/s1600/PB270245.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPTJe021I/AAAAAAAAAO4/8-gG62dtPZg/s320/PB270245.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544651650372000594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPSmiuLmI/AAAAAAAAAOw/jNsrpkSAsvU/s1600/PB270257.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPSmiuLmI/AAAAAAAAAOw/jNsrpkSAsvU/s320/PB270257.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544651640993099362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPSBC8htI/AAAAAAAAAOo/XczmhN8dI4s/s1600/PB270253.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPSBC8htI/AAAAAAAAAOo/XczmhN8dI4s/s320/PB270253.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544651630927709906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKNiEvoqQI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/-fVEOI9__ak/s320/PB270217.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544649707775109378" /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKOPZsON5I/AAAAAAAAAOg/Ime-GXlm2Tw/s1600/PB270239.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKOPZsON5I/AAAAAAAAAOg/Ime-GXlm2Tw/s320/PB270239.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544650486492051346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKM8No39FI/AAAAAAAAAOI/OTEjTqSDayA/s1600/PB270209.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKM8No39FI/AAAAAAAAAOI/OTEjTqSDayA/s320/PB270209.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544649057327641682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKMhEP9JII/AAAAAAAAAOA/Wxq0CNx0LMg/s1600/PB270230.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKMhEP9JII/AAAAAAAAAOA/Wxq0CNx0LMg/s320/PB270230.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544648590950737026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6806441682637406606?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6806441682637406606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6806441682637406606' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6806441682637406606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6806441682637406606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-wedding.html' title='it is a wedding'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TPKPTpXFqyI/AAAAAAAAAPI/CSP7U3EJJlg/s72-c/PB270264.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3564989894979830895</id><published>2010-11-25T10:13:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-25T10:29:11.701-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is californos...again :-)</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qQQcvZlfc0g?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/cQgLSNs1bZI?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tyt2hODY7Kc?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/elG7DY36NJU?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/hY_tWsVCn18?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/t8sGjki2rOY?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4jWIkm4p_CE?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/QGDo_qQnUhs?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/B0pXL1BdFnY?fs=1" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Check out more videos @ http://www.youtube.com/californos1988&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Check out their website @ http://www.californos.com&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&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/9039801796514150049-3564989894979830895?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3564989894979830895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3564989894979830895' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3564989894979830895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3564989894979830895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-californosagain.html' title='it is californos...again :-)'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/qQQcvZlfc0g/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4531508452081575332</id><published>2010-11-24T14:23:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T18:02:43.101-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a holiday</title><content type='html'>An Ode to Holidays&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh Holiday Oh Holiday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How We Love Thee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So Much Food&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Everyone is in a Good Mood&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh Holiday Oh Holiday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How We Love Thee&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So Much Laughter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And Lots of Gas After&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We Spend Hours in the Kitchen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And There's a Lot of Spoon Lickin'&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Wine is Freely Flowing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While the Food Seems to be Growing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Board Games, The Card Games,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Family, The Friends&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Cleaning, The Cleaning, The Cleaning!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh Holiday oh Holiday&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How We Love Thee!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4531508452081575332?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4531508452081575332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4531508452081575332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4531508452081575332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4531508452081575332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-holiday.html' title='it is a holiday'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1090021729706067384</id><published>2010-11-21T13:40:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T13:58:53.964-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a dinner party</title><content type='html'>OH what incredible fun we had last night! The food! And the WINE! It was a night of friends and fun and food and drink and laughter and more laughter. My friend Cher was in her element, I tell you what. She shows up complete with Chef coat and we were off and cooking. She is the master of the salad, I swear no one makes salads like this girl and she out did herself. And the cheesecake, smothered in pears and caramel sauce, Oh heaven take me now. I was in charge of the soup and main dish. A white bean recipe that has been a favorite of mine was used for the soup, insanely simple and stunningly delicious and filling. The main course I snagged from Proud Italian Cook, if you haven't checked her blog out you must, http://prouditaliancook.blogspot.com She has some of the best ideas out there and the recipes always turn out wonderfully. I mixed up a delicious batch of her Stuffed Acorn Squash. YUM! Savory rice and applewood chicken sausage combined with season spinach and cranberries all served up in the cute little bowl of a squash. I will definitely be making this again. Now the wine that was so expertly chosen by the palate of Mr Smith. Oh my mouth has never been so happy! Enjoy the photos from the evening. ;-) Chi mange bein, vive bein! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1980.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1980.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1958.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1958.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1960.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1960.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1961.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1961.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1962.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1962.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1963.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1963.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1964.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1964.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1981.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1981.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/1982.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/11/21/s_1982.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1090021729706067384?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1090021729706067384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1090021729706067384' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1090021729706067384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1090021729706067384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-dinner-party.html' title='it is a dinner party'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4001744562881617980</id><published>2010-11-20T07:38:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-20T08:16:30.966-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is my hippity hoppity little heart</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.8333px; "&gt;Oh my silly little heart. It jumped. I don't know why it decided to at the exact moment that it did, but it did. It was nice to be happy, genuinely happy for a couple of weeks. The stresses that filled my brain were that of a school girl. Enjoyable silly schoolgirl crushes. Oh but I've told my heart to come back, and it has, begrudgingly but it has. I know why my heart decided to jump, the boy was worth jumping for. But having known this boy for a while and knowing he wouldn't reciprocate the leap made it a very stupid idea for my heart. Hearts do not, sometimes unfortunately, talk to the brain before they go off running one direction or another. And sometimes it takes a little while for the brain to catch up to the heart and to tell it what's what. Oh but the fun the heart can have off on it's own. You see my little heart wants someone to catch it. That is really the best way I can describe. It wants someone to think it is worth taking a jump for, someone that my heart can jump for too. It want's to be caught, and it wants to catch. But right now my little heart has to realize that it needs to be quiet, it needs to take a nap. It is like when you break a bone, at some point on your road to recovery you will forget that you still hurt. You will use your broken limb without thinking only to discover how much bloody pain you are actually in. That is what my little heart did. It saw someone worth catching and it jumped. Poor silly little heart. But then it remembered how much it hurt. And now we are back inside our little glass cage watching the world warily, it won't stay in there forever, but for now it needs to sleep, to mend, to repair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4001744562881617980?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4001744562881617980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4001744562881617980' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4001744562881617980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4001744562881617980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-my-hippity-hoppity-little-heart.html' title='it is my hippity hoppity little heart'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6590203459650910380</id><published>2010-11-11T06:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T06:26:56.763-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is Californos!</title><content type='html'>Here are some videos of Californos Monday night, So much fun :-)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DHiEa0-nXz8?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DHiEa0-nXz8?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object style="background-image:url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/MoKasrKe02Q/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MoKasrKe02Q?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MoKasrKe02Q?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;object style="background-image:url(http://i4.ytimg.com/vi/sIHOxthGyTg/hqdefault.jpg)" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sIHOxthGyTg?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sIHOxthGyTg?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" width="480" height="295" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We are going again in a couple of weeks if anybody wishes to join. More videos @ &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.8333px; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/Californos1988"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/user/Californos1988&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6590203459650910380?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6590203459650910380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6590203459650910380' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6590203459650910380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6590203459650910380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-californos.html' title='it is Californos!'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8787258484806261981</id><published>2010-11-08T23:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-08T23:08:15.072-06:00</updated><title type='text'>it is late and I've had some wine</title><content type='html'>Today I had the chance to take a nap. I know, wonderful. As I was falling asleep I started to think about how amazing my life is. How things move and change. How I grow and evolve. Then tonight as I was driving home with sone friends one said to me well I don't know you well enough to answer said question and I thought what is there to know? I'm so boring. And I have thought this before people are often saying to me, I'm still just getting to know you. After I've known them for years. And I consider myself a very boring person with a very amazing life. Interesting huh? Maybe it's just the wine talking. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8787258484806261981?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8787258484806261981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8787258484806261981' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8787258484806261981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8787258484806261981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/11/it-is-late-and-i-had-some-wine.html' title='it is late and I&amp;#39;ve had some wine'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-2142087503067559999</id><published>2010-11-07T16:45:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-07T16:47:16.329-06:00</updated><title type='text'>its been a wee bit</title><content type='html'>I've been trying to write a blog for a while now but the words just aren't flowing. But I would like you all to know that I am happy. Woke up this morning with a smile and it hasn't gone away all day. It's nice to feel a happy peace in my soul. &lt;div&gt;Ciao!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-2142087503067559999?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2142087503067559999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=2142087503067559999' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2142087503067559999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2142087503067559999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-been-wee-bit.html' title='its been a wee bit'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-421493690935387732</id><published>2010-10-24T12:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T15:41:32.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a date</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Oh yes that's right Becca went on a date you heard it right. He's a nice guy, sweet cute funny has a great accent but if there is a date 2 I'm afraid there won't be a 3.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;So let me start you all off with how we met. I went to the Jewish Arts Festival a couple of weeks ago. It's funny how you end up places it was the most random turn of events and the fact that I was free happened to see the ad the day before and was craving potato &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;latkes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; found me and a couple of friends at a food and art fest at the Jewish Community Center. I was standing next to the music tent listening to some guy rip it up on piano and sing in Hebrew when this guy came up and started chatting. Just regular stuff 'hi I'm so and so, do you like the music, do you live here in KC' than came the 'does your boyfriend live here in KC' well considering I'm recently officially unattached I tell him so.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;"I would love to have you," he says "but I am twice your age and so you do not want me I understand. But my nephew is a good boy and I pray to God that he meet good Jewish girl." He gave me the perfect out, I'm not Jewish! "This is OK," he answers "are you close to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;judeo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;-Christian religion?" Well yes yes I am I'm catholic. "Oh this is good God has a way of bringing people together! He is a good boy, he has good job, he makes good money, he lives in good house. Please meet my nephew." At this point I am laughing so hard (on the inside) but decline. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Rebecca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;," he tells me "do you know what my name means in Hebrew? It means miracle, there is a reason we meet here today." What could I do? I mean he being a bringer of miracles and all and Lord knows my heart could use a little &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;miraculous encounter. So I meet the guy, I say "Hello, my name is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Rebecca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. your uncle is trying to set us up." He gives me a once over and says "good uncle" Oh dear lord I don't know whether to be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;, flattered or offended. I ended up just being flattered :-). So long story longer we exchanged numbers. I made a pact with a friend and invited him to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Californos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Monday night, and he came. Props to him for being brave and showing up to meet a girl who he didn't know with all her friends around her. Lots of brownie points for that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: small;"&gt; So he texts me the next day, we set a date for Saturday afternoon. OK so I didn't really feel a connection with him, at all. He's nice and cute and funny has a great accent grew up in Israel "he makes good money, he has good house, he is a good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Jewish&lt;/span&gt; boy". And he apparently thought I was interesting enough to get to know better so what's the harm? So I didn't feel a huge connection with him at first impression, doesn't mean I won't later. First impressions can often be wrong. And just because Adam and I felt instantly connected and the spark was there from the beginning doesn't mean it happens that way all the time right? I mean there's a possibility we just have to chat it up for a bit and the spark will grow yeah? So I go out to lunch with him. He's nice, we meet at a nice little place eat some good food and attempt to chat. We don't have too terribly much in common. Not really any conversations going around. He says something then I do etc etc which is technically conversing yes but there wasn't any discussion or debate about any issues. And I know myself I keep my little walls up it takes me a bit to take them down and guys have to work at taking them down it's not easy (so sorry Adam). So we get through lunch and I'm thinking this is taking more effort from me than I desire it to, maybe of course this is a good thing I mean I have to keep him talking which means I keep having to stretch out of my comfort zone. I guess the best way I can describe it is I felt like I was talking to one of my customers, asking about their day, work etc. But instead of it lasting 5 minutes it was a couple of hours. He did say some interesting and funny things, I giggled occasionally there were moments where I thought 'oh see &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Bec&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; this is better, you just work yourself up you need to let it flow' and then the flow would end. One thing he did say still makes me smile. He said the way Jewish people tend to look at men ans women is as follows; God created Adam and said this is good but I can do better so he made Eve. "Second model is always better and we are OK with that we know women are better than us." Hysterical. Other positives? He's OK with the fact that I am Italian and a crazy one at that. He says " this is OK God made the Mediterranean people that way, warm blood easy to boil" he asked what ticks me off, what will set the crazy Italian side off, cute, endearing. But then the topic came up about movies etc. and I quote "you must see &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Borat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: small; "&gt; it is poetry." OK so we'll give him the shadow the doubt since English is his second language and say that he didn't mean poetry. But then he starts talking about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;Jack Ass &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;and the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: small;"&gt;spin off on TV &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;Wild Boys&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: small;"&gt; or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial; font-size: small; "&gt;Bad Guys&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: small;"&gt; or whatever the heck it was called and what great fun it is. Oh dear heavens he's 'that guy'. I like manly guys, I like boys who are boys, I'm not looking for a girlfriend in male form BUT not that kind of boy. I want a guy who is into sports, and maybe a little nerdy who likes to watch war movies and plays poker and smokes cigars. Not a guy who thinks people causing themselves unnecessary pain or insulting others as 'good quality' entertainment. Sigh. Well better luck next time eh? I'm holding nothing against him, he will probably make someone an awesome husband and a good father but not me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: small;"&gt;I am sure there will be more to come since my friends seeing my heartbreak want me to find that kind of happy I felt when I was allowed to love Adam. I am happy though now for the most part. I still feel released from the hold he had on my heart. I was driving the other day and was dancing to whatever was playing on the radio and I had a little image of myself in a glass cage inside my heart and I could see little me busting out and living life. Breaking through my barriers and embracing the fun of the world around me. I could feel the love that God has for the world and how powerful and pure it was. I am holding onto that strength, trying to anyhow. Holding onto the fact that God's love is so powerful it keeps everything in place, keeps this world operating, and functioning properly. And he loves me with that powerful love. And the fact that I have now learned how passionately I can love someone means I deserve someone who loves me that passionately. I deserve someone who can't stop thinking about me. Who wants to tell me things he doesn't want to tell others. Who wants to take care of me and make me feel safe. That is what I deserve, I know because that is how I love. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-421493690935387732?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/421493690935387732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=421493690935387732' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/421493690935387732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/421493690935387732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-date.html' title='it is a date'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5563578486364484215</id><published>2010-10-12T08:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T08:55:02.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is release</title><content type='html'>I just had the most wonderful massive beautiful moment of release. I wish you all could have shared in my joy as in a single moment God touched me and said be free. And I was. Laughing and crying and laughing and crying and customers were coming in and asking if I was ok and yes of course I was I was the happiest I had ever been! So much so my body couldn't decide what to do. My laughing and crying lasted about 10 minutes and has left me with a sense of calm, a very very joyous calm. It is lovely I don't know what else to say but I am free! &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/12/828.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/12/s_828.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5563578486364484215?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5563578486364484215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5563578486364484215' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5563578486364484215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5563578486364484215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-release.html' title='it is release'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5557231572809131902</id><published>2010-10-08T15:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T15:53:19.752-05:00</updated><title type='text'>20</title><content type='html'>Our whole business in this life is to restore to health the eye of the heart whereby God may be seen. &lt;br /&gt;- St. Augustine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5557231572809131902?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5557231572809131902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5557231572809131902' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5557231572809131902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5557231572809131902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/20.html' title='20'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3275541451765955550</id><published>2010-10-05T07:11:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T07:11:05.417-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Video moments from MB</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;This little guy was SO cute!!! His owners however were a big disappointment. They walk out to the shore take this pup off his leash and he proceeds to run jovially all over the place. I was hoping they would go for a lovely romantic walk along the water and with any luck I would get a chance to meet the little bulldog dog. But no. The female half of this duo began complaining about chill and wind and yada yada to help persuade the male half she got all lovey-dovey on him kissing and hugging and blah blah blah after a moment of this the dog's leash was reattached and they went back to the car where I am sure the kernoodling continued. Oh well what are you gonna do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align='center'&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.youtube.com/v/rdiQdx0Twmg" width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rdiQdx0Twmg" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;!-- Fallback content --&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdiQdx0Twmg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/rdiQdx0Twmg/0.jpg" width="400" height="300" /&gt;YouTube Video&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;This video is of my aunt, and the worlds largest margarita. We went out to Margaritaville on our last day to eat delicious fish sandwiches. Yum. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align='center'&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.youtube.com/v/lr5GbnX7kyc" width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lr5GbnX7kyc" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;!-- Fallback content --&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lr5GbnX7kyc"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/lr5GbnX7kyc/0.jpg" width="400" height="300" /&gt;YouTube Video&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3275541451765955550?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3275541451765955550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3275541451765955550' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3275541451765955550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3275541451765955550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/video-moments-from-mb.html' title='Video moments from MB'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4135355790142551314</id><published>2010-10-05T07:01:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T07:01:55.440-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is arriving</title><content type='html'>I figured I should write a more cheerful post following the outburst of sad last time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon arriving in KC my allergies came back like a vengeance no sooner did the plane door open I could feel all those lovely spores attacking my poor little sinuses. Welcome back to Missouri (please pronounce misery in this context) I thought. I was greeted by fantastically big hugs from my mother and father (seriously you would have thought that I had been gone months not days :-)). When I got back to the house I was greeted by a dog who couldn't be close enough to me (she used to do this as a puppy she would sit on a lap and press herself into you it was like she had so much wonderful adoration for you that the only way she could express it was to attempt to morph into you). It seemed everyone missed me whilst I was away. It is nice to feel wanted bad sinuses and all. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;This morning I came into my little shop the fireplace was flickering and it smelled like coffee. Really good coffee. My aunt made fun of me my last day in MB. You see there is an apparently horrifying lack of coffee in MB. I mean THER IS NONE. You have two choices, Dunkin' Donuts and Starbucks. So after attempting to find a little privately owned coffee shop (fail) we walked into Starbucks (blegh, I've had to drink their weak americanos for 4 days) at 1130 in the morning! Those of you who know me know it is exceptionally hard for me to function properly before my cup (and yes I usually only have one don't think I'm a  super crazy caffeine pumping maniac please) of life giving java. So here we are we walk in the door my aunt looks at me and says 'do you feel better now? You just have to smell it?' Oh and it was so true, I walked into that "daddy warbucks" establishment and I could instantly feel relief come over me. My headache started easing, my body relaxed and I took one deep very satisfying breath. Oh to be an addict. &lt;br /&gt;Back to this morning. &lt;br /&gt;I smelled the sweet sweet java and thought oh yes this is the best little shop in the world and it's mine, well it belongs to me and the several 100 people who come here on a daily basis but you get the idea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/05/613.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/05/s_613.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4135355790142551314?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4135355790142551314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4135355790142551314' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4135355790142551314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4135355790142551314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-arriving.html' title='It is arriving'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7238247118488223766</id><published>2010-10-04T16:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T16:20:45.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is leaving</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting here in the very (very very very very) tiny Florence (not Italy but SC) airport. My flight leaves in 45 minutes. I'm listening to Sara Baerellis's new album (thanks Jenna) and thoughts are running through my head. I'm trying to focus on my book (Eat Pray Love) and all I can think of is not going back. I want to run. Can I face the life I left behind 5 short days ago? Am I ready to fight my unfinished battles? Am I ready to dig back into work? Do I have the strength? &lt;br /&gt;While my Aunt and I were driving home from lunch this afternoon we drove along Ocean Ave and I watched the surf from the distance. I almost jumped out of the car and ran to the water to beg it to let me stay. Maybe the god of the sea would have pity on my plight and grant me my wish. &lt;br /&gt;I know I won't be alone when I get home. I know I'll have my wonderful friends and family. I know I'll be OK, my life isn't really that bad anyways. &lt;br /&gt;It's been a wonderful 4 days. Thank you everyone for all that you do for me on a daily basis. You are what is giving me the strength to get on this plane. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La docle vita can be wherever I am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7238247118488223766?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7238247118488223766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7238247118488223766' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7238247118488223766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7238247118488223766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-leaving.html' title='it is leaving'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8081465156429422357</id><published>2010-10-04T09:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-04T09:19:46.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Photos from MB</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/714.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_714.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/716.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_716.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/720.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_720.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/724.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_724.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/728.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_728.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/729.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_729.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/730.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_730.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/731.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_731.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/732.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_732.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/734.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_734.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/736.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_736.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/737.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_737.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/740.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_740.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/743.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_743.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/746.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_746.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/750.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_750.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/754.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_754.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/759.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_759.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/760.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/04/s_760.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8081465156429422357?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8081465156429422357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8081465156429422357' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8081465156429422357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8081465156429422357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/photos-from-mb.html' title='Photos from MB'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1125122991499416550</id><published>2010-10-03T10:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T10:42:51.864-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is the waves</title><content type='html'>Today is my second to last day with the waves. I will miss them. &lt;br /&gt;Today I spent the last hour wet to my knees in salt water. The little Myrtle Beach waves crashing at my side as I wander along the shore. &lt;br /&gt;Today I am writing an email I do not know how to write. &lt;br /&gt;Today I am reading a book to help me understand the world. &lt;br /&gt;Today I am sitting watching the water for the 16th hour this weekend (I achieved my goal of not doing much else ;-)). &lt;br /&gt;Today I'm eating lunch with my aunt. It has been so great getting to know her. I feel so lucky to have such a great family. &lt;br /&gt;Today I might fall asleep in the sun (don't worry Ma I put sunscreen on). &lt;br /&gt;Today I am watching the 100th surfer ride the waves (please note I said ride not surf. Apparently it is quite the thing to do here in MB. Go out on your board and sit on it and let the waves come and go. You get a great little roller-coaster ride. Up and down up and down. If this qualifies as surfing out here sign mr up!)&lt;br /&gt;Today I am enjoying my last 24 hours of vacation. Thank you to everyone who helped me get here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/03/1310.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/03/s_1310.jpg' border='0' width='320' height='320' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1125122991499416550?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1125122991499416550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1125122991499416550' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1125122991499416550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1125122991499416550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-waves.html' title='It is the waves'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5059263059046840333</id><published>2010-10-02T07:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T20:10:27.503-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is the sand</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I walked along the shore for hours (I'm thinking 3 or 4) and I now know why beach people have such tight feet. My toes are still sore this morning. I walked and walked and very little deep thought encroached on my solitude. When I did stop to ponder my spot in this world, seemingly small standing next to such an immense body of water, I thought about what in my life had brought me to this point then I turned around and saw not a single footprint. It was like the past didn't matter. I am here, that is all that mattered, in front of me was a clean slate of untouched sand. I was on a fresh path. No one was leading me, nor was I following anyone. It was like every step was a new beginning and every time I moved forward it washed away. Let the past be your past and let your future be your own.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/02/669.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/02/s_669.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5059263059046840333?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5059263059046840333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5059263059046840333' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5059263059046840333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5059263059046840333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-sand.html' title='it is the sand'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8784872873615200569</id><published>2010-10-02T07:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T07:12:12.619-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is a drunk</title><content type='html'>Last night I went to my Aunt's restaurant to hang out and watch karaoke. The end of the evening was spent with the resident Friday night drunk. Big drunk ex-lawyers are hilarious let me tell you. Besides asking me and my aunt every few minutes if we would go home with him he gave me a brief rundown on who he thought I was. He asked if I had children, when I told him no he said well you will and you will be a great mother, I can tell these things. He also said that one day I would meet a boy and make him a man and we would be very happy. You'll be very happy and you'll make him very happy, I can see these things. Now for the record I believe he had 8 or nine jack &amp; cokes but I do hope his drunk predictions come true :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8784872873615200569?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8784872873615200569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8784872873615200569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8784872873615200569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8784872873615200569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-drunk.html' title='It is a drunk'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3454887425178601817</id><published>2010-10-01T14:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-01T14:32:15.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is the water</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align='center'&gt;&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.youtube.com/v/3DlddSpRWdY" width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3DlddSpRWdY" /&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high" /&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /&gt;&lt;!-- Fallback content --&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DlddSpRWdY"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.youtube.com/vi/3DlddSpRWdY/0.jpg" width="400" height="300" /&gt;YouTube Video&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3454887425178601817?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3454887425178601817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3454887425178601817' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3454887425178601817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3454887425178601817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-water.html' title='it is the water'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7500258649879527726</id><published>2010-10-01T12:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T15:57:24.309-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is the beach</title><content type='html'>Oh yes my first beach blog, there will hopefully be several ;-). My Aunt J graciously took me to the shore last night upon learning that I had not seen the water for 10 years, we stopped for 5 &lt;br /&gt;minutes before dinner. I walked down the little path to the sand. I have to admit I had a moment of fear. You know when you build something up in your head and you have all these wonderful expectations and when you finally get to that moment it falls terribly short and you are left with a sinking disappointment? But I am happy to say it lived up to all my memories. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face, kept giggling and then almost cried (how embarrassing!). I am so dramatic ;-). More to come I am sure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/01/1318.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/01/s_1318.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/01/1319.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/10/01/s_1319.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7500258649879527726?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7500258649879527726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7500258649879527726' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7500258649879527726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7500258649879527726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-is-beach.html' title='it is the beach'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1507543083634855672</id><published>2010-09-26T10:17:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T10:19:04.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is letting go</title><content type='html'>Today I am learning how to let go. It is one of the hardest lessons I have had to learn. I wonder how long it will take before I can let it go, let it all go.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1507543083634855672?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1507543083634855672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1507543083634855672' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1507543083634855672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1507543083634855672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-is-letting-go.html' title='it is letting go'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6823414919452007111</id><published>2010-09-19T10:12:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-20T09:42:05.004-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is the nicest things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; "&gt;As I mentioned in the last post I went on a little road trip with my dog yesterday. I am now safely and merrily back at home and the dog no longer has to guard her bone from passersby. Driving home this morning I popped in Kate Nash's Made of Bricks album. My dearest friend KG gave this to me and said to listen to the Nicest Things track it reminds me of you and Adam. For those of you who don't know I had such a huge crush on him about 2 years ago. Every time he would come into the shop I would get all flustered and awkward and I couldn't talk to him. Which he took as rejection thinking I didn't like him. Not that I blame him mind you, I did shut him down on frequent occasion, never intentionally mind you just&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; "&gt; stupidly. Anyways all that being said I was driving home, listening to Kate Nash realizing that this song was as true now as it was then. Earlier on the trip I was listening to the You've Got Mail soundtrack and the Puppy Song has a line that goes something like this Dreams are wishes when we are asleep and wishes are dreams we want to come true. So here are the lyrics to share with you, cyber world, muse over them and my lost wish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;All I know is that you're so nice,&lt;br /&gt;You're the nicest thing I've seen.&lt;br /&gt;I wish that we could give it a go,&lt;br /&gt;See if we could be something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was your favourite girl,&lt;br /&gt;I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was your favourite smile,&lt;br /&gt;I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you couldn't figure me out,&lt;br /&gt;But you always wanna know what I was about.&lt;br /&gt;I wish you'd hold my hand when I was upset,&lt;br /&gt;I wish you'd never forget the look on my face when we first met.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish you had a favourite beauty spot that you loved secretly,&lt;br /&gt;'Cos it was on a hidden bit that nobody else could see.&lt;br /&gt;Basically, I wish that you loved me,&lt;br /&gt;I wish that you needed me,&lt;br /&gt;I wish that you knew when I said two sugars, actually I meant three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish that without me your heart would break,&lt;br /&gt;I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; "&gt;I wish that without me you couldn't eat,&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All i know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen&lt;br /&gt;I wish that we could see if we could be something&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TJY0kOdWo6I/AAAAAAAAANw/-pjnaJ5crKg/s320/katenash.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 314px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518656190350271394" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; "&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&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/9039801796514150049-6823414919452007111?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6823414919452007111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6823414919452007111' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6823414919452007111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6823414919452007111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-is-nicest-things.html' title='it is the nicest things'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dEwqDvNAJLQ/TJY0kOdWo6I/AAAAAAAAANw/-pjnaJ5crKg/s72-c/katenash.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8550240625590247269</id><published>2010-09-18T19:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T19:45:34.405-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it's a dog's life</title><content type='html'>My dog Nakima and I went on a little road trip. We are tucked into a hotel off the highway and as people walk past our room she was letting out a low growl. She has now fallen asleep facing the door and protecting her bone. Oh to be a dog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/09/18/2690.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/09/18/s_2690.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8550240625590247269?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8550240625590247269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8550240625590247269' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8550240625590247269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8550240625590247269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-dog-life.html' title='it&amp;#39;s a dog&amp;#39;s life'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7050149813354306304</id><published>2010-09-18T06:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T07:42:19.454-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a new friend</title><content type='html'>Today was a rather dopey day. Don't really know how else to explain it. I was busy busy busy all day running here and running here and there. Way too much to do. Over taxing my brain and having a mini meltdown. But a friend stopped by at the end of the night and let me vent. And then I gained a new little friend ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/09/18/458.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/09/18/s_458.jpg" border="0" width="210" height="281" style="margin:5px" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day may have started out a little off, but life's OK :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7050149813354306304?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7050149813354306304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7050149813354306304' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7050149813354306304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7050149813354306304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-is-new-friend.html' title='it is a new friend'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-5501934905422813817</id><published>2010-09-16T18:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-17T17:45:27.698-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is Meg Ryan</title><content type='html'>My life has gone from being plain and ordinary to a Meg Ryan movie. On this little adventure I took in love I have experienced several of Meg's characters in my life. It started out as You've Got Mail. I often feel like Kathleen Kelly but I had never felt that anticipation that excitement she felt waiting for the email. Until now. Every time his name was in my inbox my heart would stop and I couldn't wait to read what he had to say. The phone calls the text messages I would jump every time the bell would go off telling me I had a text hoping it would be from him. Oh and if it was, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face no matter how hard I tried. One of the girls who works for me said to me one day "did you talk to him this morning?" "yes, why?" "because whenever you see him or talk to him before you cone into work you are just so much happier, lighter"&lt;br /&gt;Then my life turned into "When Harry Met Sally" the friendship the conversations the camaraderie then followed by the awkwardness of the fact that I had fallen in love with him and he did not feel the same way about me. Then the conversations got really interesting.&lt;br /&gt;Now my life has turned into "The Women" where Mary argues with her husband and says all the wrong things. Unfortunately I don't think he will ever think I'm worth coming back to.&lt;br /&gt;All of this is to say; what in the world would we do without Meg Ryan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;P.S. A brief shout out to Sandra Bullock, her role in While You Were Sleeping, when her boss asks her "What happened to the other guy?" "He didn't want me." Yeah had that moment too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-5501934905422813817?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/5501934905422813817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=5501934905422813817' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5501934905422813817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/5501934905422813817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-is-meg-ryan.html' title='It is Meg Ryan'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-945527962618972710</id><published>2010-09-13T21:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-13T21:29:53.170-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is blueberry pie</title><content type='html'>If you haven't yet it you all must watch "my blueberry nights". It's a movie about crossing the street. Yes it sounds odd and possibly boring but it's worth a watch I promise (Annie you know I'm right). &lt;br /&gt;Love is a funny thing. It makes us do funny things, can't wipe the smile off your face, butterflies in your stomach, dancing in stores, laughing for no reason, dreams, daydreams, lots of thinking, lots of talking and so much happiness. Having your heart broken makes us lash out in ways that you never thought you could lash.  Well for me anyways that's how it was. In a moment of excruciating pain I went into survival mode, I didn't know I could be hurt that way, it was like someone was threatening my very existence and what could I do but protect and fight for myself? &lt;br /&gt; Sometimes it takes a long time to cross the street but we have to otherwise we will never get to the other side. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-945527962618972710?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/945527962618972710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=945527962618972710' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/945527962618972710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/945527962618972710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-is-blueberry-pie.html' title='it is blueberry pie'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7798680101192958706</id><published>2010-09-11T23:59:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T23:59:18.295-05:00</updated><title type='text'>19</title><content type='html'>Je ne sais pas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7798680101192958706?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7798680101192958706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7798680101192958706' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7798680101192958706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7798680101192958706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/19.html' title='19'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-2558479528823404675</id><published>2010-09-11T11:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T11:13:59.157-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is frank sinatra</title><content type='html'>As I was listening to good ol' blue eyes yesterday I began to think about life and love (HUGE surprise I know). Night and Day was the song that particularly made me ponder. I want someone to love me like that almost obsessively can't get me out of their mind wanting to make me happy wanting to love me entirely(please note that I don't want this in a creepy stalkerish way). Doesn't everyone deserve a love so passionate? Love mr through my flaws through my imperfections through my crazy Italian emotions through my insecurities and into my old age and wrinkles. And I promise to love whomever it may be the same. No perfect man for me I want a lovely mess who will counteract my mess so that we can be one complete mess of happiness and love. &lt;br /&gt;As Frank would say;&lt;br /&gt;"I've got you under my skin.&lt;br /&gt;Ive got you deep in the heart of me.&lt;br /&gt;So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-2558479528823404675?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2558479528823404675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=2558479528823404675' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2558479528823404675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2558479528823404675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-is-frank-sinatra.html' title='it is frank sinatra'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1343165957821180269</id><published>2010-09-10T20:39:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-10T20:39:07.110-05:00</updated><title type='text'>18</title><content type='html'>It is life ergo it's messy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1343165957821180269?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1343165957821180269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1343165957821180269' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1343165957821180269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1343165957821180269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/18.html' title='18'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8786409841525741128</id><published>2010-09-06T12:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T12:05:56.592-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is a gorilla</title><content type='html'>So here I am walking around the Omaha Zoo. It's fantastic. Oh course as I pass the Silver Back Gorilla I start thinking of him and start to cry. Why was it that I was so sure he cared about me that he liked me was it all a lie? And then I start thinking I need to talk to him. But what am I going to say? What can I say. What do I want out of the conversation? I want him but A) he doesn't want me and B) why do I want somebody who doesn't want me. This then goes back to the whole Freddy complex as discussed in a previous blog. Of course she ends up deciding that it is better to be with someone who loves you than to be with someone you love but doesn't love you. But is that right? Shouldn't it go both ways? Does it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8786409841525741128?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8786409841525741128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8786409841525741128' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8786409841525741128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8786409841525741128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-is-gorilla.html' title='it is a gorilla'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-8095524707588656406</id><published>2010-09-04T11:20:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-06T07:18:50.229-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is house</title><content type='html'>I have watched 6 seasons of House MD in the past three weeks. Yes that's right, I have spent over 140 hours with Dr. House and his crew since Aug 15th. I picked up a season instead of chocolate ice cream, a coping mechanism I picked up years ago (which is why those of you who have been to my house surely have noticed the massive pile of DVDs). I discovered that when I am stressed and cannot deal with a situation movies and TV tend to help me process a whole heck of a lot better than sweets. And another plus is they don't tend to add pounds to my waist :-).&lt;br /&gt;As I was saying, I picked up a season of House MD to help me process my broken heart. And one season led to two and then three by the time I finished the third season I decided that when I finished the 6th I would have clarity and be able to start functioning in the real world and not be lost in my head anymore. So here is a blog to tell you, if you care to read it, what I learned while watching 6 seasons of House MD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Friends are wonderful. Ari and Jen were trading shifts watching the saga unfold and as things would come up and prompt me to talk they were there for me. Thank you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*It is never sarcoidosis no matter how much the symptoms point to it, or no matter how much you want it to be it never is sarcoidosis.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Forgiveness is often hard to come by.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;* Love is really what matters at the end of the day. Without it we will be incredibly lost and alone. And no matter how hard it is for us to show love we must.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*Contrary to House's belief God is very important to us wee mortals.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*This life we lead is not a test.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*I am more like House than I originally thought, I may not be a great puzzler or a genius however if there is a question I must find the answer a little obsessively actually.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the season finale for season 6 played across my TV at 1230 last night I laid in bed and cried and prayed for about an hour.  Following the emotional outbusrt I fell into a fitful night's sleep full of dreams and wishes of things that would never be. I woke in tears wondering if it was worth getting out of bed, wondering if people really would care if there was no coffee for them this morning. And then my dog stood on my stomach and wagged her tail to be let outside, so I got up. I got to work and I realized I was actually happy not joyous down to my core, not the same happy I had felt the past 5 months but I was able to enjoy the customers coming in, the old men with there same terrible jokes the cyclists on their pit-stop, I was actually enjoying the busyness that was around me. I was actually smiling a real smile for the first time in weeks, I actually felt OK. I am not expecting this to be the cure to my heartache, I am quite sure tonight will be very hard to fall asleep in the silence that engulfs me. I am quite sure I will dream and possibly awake in tears again. But I am quite confident I will get better, eventually. Three days ago I wasn't quite sure, I went outside and watched a storm blow past from my patio, a friend drove past and saw me outside and stopped to say hello she was in the neighborhood for a random reason and when she saw me she felt it pressed on her heart to come talk, she let me cry and she talked me through some pain. When she left I felt not quite as alone, I know its silly I've had friends around me constantly supporting me and helping me as I try to wrap my head around the rejection I've been feeling and this massive sense of loss. But I've felt alone, I felt that God has actually quit trying to reach me that all that He had said the past few months I had misinterpreted, that I was being a typical silly human and read into signs what I wanted to. I was rethinking my faith, maybe thats the wrong way to put it, I was rethinking how I believed. I here I was on my sofa a friend just happened to come by in one of my darkest hours, maybe God still does care.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-8095524707588656406?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/8095524707588656406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=8095524707588656406' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8095524707588656406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/8095524707588656406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-is-house.html' title='it is house'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-3111611021718727484</id><published>2010-09-04T09:14:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T09:15:05.908-05:00</updated><title type='text'>17</title><content type='html'>'The reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once. "&lt;div&gt;-A. Einstein&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-3111611021718727484?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/3111611021718727484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=3111611021718727484' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3111611021718727484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/3111611021718727484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/09/17.html' title='17'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1618432618108540489</id><published>2010-08-29T12:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-29T12:58:41.092-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It is uncertainty</title><content type='html'>I was listening to the Ingrid Michaelson song "Locked Up" this morning and realized it ties into my earlier post about loving enough. Basically she is doubting whether or not her decisions regarding love are because she is fighting for her true love or if she just has locked her heart away so she is incapable of loving enough. It's quite the dilemma really. How do we ever know if we pulled the plug too soon? Did we risk enough? Hurt enough? Give enough? Nothing is ever black and white and I guess we can never be 100% sure. Too bad eh? Wouldn't it be great if we had the ability to know if we were just wasting our time or if we should keep working at it. There is a movie I watched the other day called "Timer" the basic plot line is there is a chip implanted in your wrist with a countdown to when you will meet your true love, well your most compatible mate. When you come in contact with him/her the timer makes a happy little song. Takes all the guess work out of it. I'm not asking for something quite so extreme but say after a failed attempt God could say "That's ok he/she was your second best you'll be fine." But what if you give up on your best and you end up with your second best? What then? Your life I'm sure would be happy, great even. But it could have been better if you worked a little harder, tried a little longer, loved a little more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1618432618108540489?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1618432618108540489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1618432618108540489' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1618432618108540489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1618432618108540489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/it-is-uncertainty.html' title='It is uncertainty'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1112611478289810286</id><published>2010-08-26T06:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-26T06:28:33.905-05:00</updated><title type='text'>EE Cummings</title><content type='html'>it is so long since my heart has been with yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shut by our mingling arms where new lights begin and increase,&lt;br /&gt;since your mind has walked into my kiss as a stranger into the streets and colours of a town-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;that i have perhaps forgotten&lt;br /&gt;how, always(from these hurrying crudities of blood and flesh)Love coins His most gradual gesture&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and whittles life to enternity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- after which our separating selves become museums filled with skillfully stuffed memories&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1112611478289810286?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1112611478289810286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1112611478289810286' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1112611478289810286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1112611478289810286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/ee-cummings.html' title='EE Cummings'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6072867283098964030</id><published>2010-08-18T07:05:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T16:40:47.984-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i fell in love</title><content type='html'>in this little adventure of discovering myself i fell in love. he's a great guy, but he doesn't love me. so after i bashed my head into the wall a few times i came to this realization and decided to end the emotional drama that is has created in the past 5 months. that being said the dream i used to have as a child where i would fly off the top of the roller coaster and crash to my death amongst a crowd of tourists, yeah it feels pretty much like that.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div&gt;i have been watching a lot of House MD lately its good therapy for me to engulf myself in some sort of fictional drama to keep my mind off of me (addiction is a coping mechanism and comes in many forms). Unfortunately for me House reminds me of, well lets call him Adam. No he is not rude just to be rude, no he is not an ass on a general occasion, and no he is not a Dr. However he does want to live his life out singly and solitarily alone. Even if he says he doesn't. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This morning I was catching up on TV thanks to HULU and as I was watching Lie To Me I realized that in every TV show I love to watch there is an arrogant SOB who happens to be brilliant (Adam is that as well by the way, brilliant not arrogant) who i happen to find attraction to, their characters are the reason i watch these shows. In Scrubs I loved JD but I watched it for Dr. Cox. Criminal Minds, I have a massive soft spot for Hotchner. The other thing all of these characters have in common is that they are lone wolves. The funny thing about it is that they all need people, we all do, but they are so desperately afraid of admitting it that they are constantly keeping people at arms length. And so like Foster, Cuddy, Wilson, Zoe, JD, Cameron, Carla, and so on and so forth I opened up my heart and it was not reciprocated. So what did I do? I tried again and again more vulnerable, more open, more honest, more truthful, more caring, more forgiving and again rejection.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There is a song by Mumford and Sons (White Blank Page) that goes something like this; You did not think before you pushed me to the brink, You wanted my attention but denied my affection, tell me where it was my fault for loving you with my whole heart. I so thought it was right, I wanted to grow old with him, I wanted to have a life, a happy and full wonderful life. The sad part is I think we could have. He fit into every aspect of my life, he's everything I ever wanted in a man, he made me feel safe and happy, so happy, i could trust him, he never judged me, he made all of my insecurities go away, I was brave around him. I felt beautiful and strong in the weakest of ways. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's been 4 days, 4 long terrible days. Not sleeping, not eating, a  lot of crying a lot of thinking and no communication. I know that if he wanted me he would want to fight for me. I want him to fight for me I want him to call me and say lets talk about it. But he won't because he doesn't want me. That is what hurts the most, that someone i love and care for so deeply, someone that i want to be in my life doesn't want to be in mine. Of course the fact that he hasn't call that he isn't fighting for me is proof that I made the right choice, he very possibly would have drug it on for months or years and then where would I be? But the silly part is I still want him, I want him to call to get mad at me to yell at me to apologize to me to just see how I am doing, SOMETHING! I want him in my life! If he was to ask right now I wouldn't be able to tell him no.  I know I would need things to be different but I would still want to give it another try. The last line of the song says; But lead me to the truth and I will follow you for my whole life. It's true, I would. &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/9039801796514150049-6072867283098964030?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6072867283098964030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6072867283098964030' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6072867283098964030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6072867283098964030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-fell-in-love.html' title='i fell in love'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-6287993625655960454</id><published>2010-08-10T07:00:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T10:56:52.010-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is to love enough</title><content type='html'>As some of you may know about 5 years ago I was in a car accident. I could have been hurt much worse than I was, I like to say my guardian angel was very flat that day as he stepped between me and the cement mixer. Like any person who comes face to face with their mortality I look at life differently than I did before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the priest's homily a couple of weeks ago he was talking about giving last rites to the elderly and how many of them share their regrets with him. He said most of the time their regrets are not that they didn't live enough, see enough or become enough, but that they didn't love enough, love more. He also stated that he believed when we die God will ask us if we became all that he intended for us. If God is love than he wants us to be love. So in theory if God asks us if we strove to become who he intended us to be wouldn't that in essence be this question, did you love like I did?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since our creation we have believed in love. Adam walking in the garden with God himself was lonely and so God created Eve to complete his creation. Plato  said that we were created with 4 legs, 4 arms and two faces and Zeus was afraid of our strength so he split us in half sending us into a constant search to complete ourselves. The Greeks also said that love was invented by the gods purely for their entertainment. For how much we know, how much we have learned there is still so much the human race doesn't know about love, and we are constantly searching. Shakespeare, Aristotle, fairy tales, music, cinema, literature, Freud, Jung have all made stabs at what love is, how we fall in love, why we fall in love with who we do, what makes marriage work, why marriages fall apart. Watching TV and movies romances always work out, why? Because the characters already know the ending, of course they are going to keep talking after she just offended him they are supposed to end up together so they will keep at it, their lines are scripted to match the other persons psyche and personality. But in real life we mess up, well at least I do. We react from our own perception and view points rather than the others. It is only natural we are all at the center of our own reality. But often in what we say, how we feel or how we act/react we hurt the other person, push them away or ruin something that could be good. Our lives aren't scripted out in advance our characters are not matched to each other. In my little shop I watch people, its a relatively small group of people in the grand scheme of the world but they are an interesting bunch let me tell you. Over the years I have watched them fall in love, get their hearts broken, get married, have children, get divorced. The only thing I think I have learned from all my watching is that there are as many types of relationships as there are people. Each one of them falls in love with different qualities than I would, each one of them breaks up over issues that I might not necessarily see to be a problem. I am rather ignorant on romantic love as far as personal experience goes. I'm still learning but I have a sneaky suspicion that I will never stop learning about love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do however know a bit about platonic love. Plato stated that it is the purest form of love that love between the same sex was perfect because there was no physical hang up, what I like to call the "when harry met sally" issue. My girlfriends have taught me much about love, forgiveness, understanding, patience, trust, hurt. Without their friendships I would not be the same person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family also has taught me a lot about love. What it means to stick through the hard times, learn from each other, how to love through change. Without their constant love and support I would not be able to show love and support to anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the end of the day I guess the question I have for myself is; do I love enough? Do I risk enough for love? Will I live my life without the regret of not loving enough?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-6287993625655960454?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/6287993625655960454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=6287993625655960454' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6287993625655960454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/6287993625655960454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/it-is-life.html' title='it is to love enough'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7393702388163439917</id><published>2010-08-06T15:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T15:31:20.463-05:00</updated><title type='text'>16</title><content type='html'>i had a birthday yesterday. so i guess i am now a year older. funny, it only felt like a day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7393702388163439917?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7393702388163439917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7393702388163439917' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7393702388163439917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7393702388163439917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/16.html' title='16'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-2407269994269472319</id><published>2010-08-03T09:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T09:36:28.988-05:00</updated><title type='text'>15</title><content type='html'>coffee is good&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/08/03/664.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/08/03/s_664.jpg' border='0' width='280' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-2407269994269472319?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2407269994269472319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=2407269994269472319' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2407269994269472319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2407269994269472319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/08/15.html' title='15'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-4203570021691352923</id><published>2010-07-30T22:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T19:53:35.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'>it is mental relaxation</title><content type='html'>Today I felt good, great actually. I was a total klutz, my mind was all over the place, and I was having a bad hair day and all that that encompasses. But I felt relaxed, at peace, even if I was spilling coffee everywhere.  I've felt this way for a couple of days now and it wondeful.  If my life was a novel, and yes I sometimes feel that it is, I would be in a new chapter. Not to say that what was happening in the previous chapter has ceased but a new sense of mental clarity and awareness has been reached. Now all I have to do is stave off a relapse in mental confusion :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/07/30/2216.jpg'&gt;&lt;img src='http://blogpress.w18.net/photos/10/07/30/s_2216.jpg' border='0' width='187' height='281' style='margin:5px'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Posted From My iPhone so please excuse the typos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-4203570021691352923?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/4203570021691352923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=4203570021691352923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4203570021691352923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/4203570021691352923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/07/it-is-mental-relaxation.html' title='it is mental relaxation'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-2940184925432080428</id><published>2010-07-30T16:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T16:46:18.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'>16</title><content type='html'>moments of peace are gifts from God.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-2940184925432080428?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/2940184925432080428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=2940184925432080428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2940184925432080428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/2940184925432080428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/07/16.html' title='16'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-1521345537929738560</id><published>2010-07-30T16:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T16:45:51.932-05:00</updated><title type='text'>15</title><content type='html'>if you find yourself in a moment of joy hold onto it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-1521345537929738560?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/1521345537929738560/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=1521345537929738560' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1521345537929738560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/1521345537929738560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/07/15.html' title='15'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9039801796514150049.post-7310769341972498650</id><published>2010-07-30T16:43:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T16:43:53.534-05:00</updated><title type='text'>14</title><content type='html'>how you leave is how you enter&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9039801796514150049-7310769341972498650?l=bexandherlife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/feeds/7310769341972498650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9039801796514150049&amp;postID=7310769341972498650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7310769341972498650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9039801796514150049/posts/default/7310769341972498650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bexandherlife.blogspot.com/2010/07/14.html' title='14'/><author><name>Middle Sister</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06590916100665494882</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfIzUU7JQ8I/TbAvFbc6sSI/AAAAAAAAASM/d3YxTSN2Ehk/s220/biddle1.png'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
