<?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-5158265</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:45:26.611-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Life: My View</title><subtitle type='html'>My life.  Probably not the most interesting thing, but then again, if you're reading this, yours probably isn't all that great either!  </subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>70</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106262730330516538</id><published>2003-09-03T18:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T18:15:03.323-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table border='1' cellspacing='0' cellpadding='2' align='center'&gt;&lt;form action='http://memegen.deskslave.org/viewmeme.pl?un=mugseymalone&amp;meme=1060369655' method='POST'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;th colspan=2 bgcolor='#000000'&gt;&lt;font color='#DDDD88'&gt;past life by mugseymalone&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/th&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#000000'&gt;&lt;font color='#FFFFFF'&gt;Birthday&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#DDDDAA'&gt;&lt;font color='#000000'&gt;&lt;input type='text' name='Birthday' value='May 7,1982' size='20'&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#000000'&gt;&lt;font color='#FFFFFF'&gt;Name&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#DDDDAA'&gt;&lt;font color='#000000'&gt;&lt;input type='text' name='Name' value='Stacy' size='20'&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#000000'&gt;&lt;font color='#FFFFFF'&gt;Born on&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#DDDDAA'&gt;&lt;font color='#000000'&gt;May 21, 1749&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#000000'&gt;&lt;font color='#FFFFFF'&gt;occupation&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#DDDDAA'&gt;&lt;font color='#000000'&gt;Doctor &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#000000'&gt;&lt;font color='#FFFFFF'&gt;wealth&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td bgcolor='#DDDDAA'&gt;&lt;font color='#000000'&gt;264,823&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;input type='hidden' name='un' value='mugseymalone'&gt;&lt;input type='hidden' name='meme' value='1060369655'&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan=2 align='center' bgcolor='#000000'&gt;&lt;input type='submit' value='Fill Out Your Answers and Try it!'&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan=2 align='center' bgcolor='#000000'&gt;&lt;font size='-1' color='#FFFFFF'&gt;Created with &lt;a href='http://www.livejournal.com/users/quill18/'&gt;&lt;img src='http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif' style='vertical-align:bottom;border:0;'&gt;&lt;font color='#DDDD88'&gt;quill18&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;'s &lt;a href='http://memegen.deskslave.org/'&gt;&lt;font color='#DDDD88'&gt;MemeGen&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/form&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool huh?  Maybe I used to bleed patients to death.  Or was ineffective during a plague.  Or did experimental surgery just to see what was in there.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106262730330516538?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106262730330516538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106262730330516538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106262730330516538' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106193760567713192</id><published>2003-08-26T18:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-26T18:40:05.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>First day of clinic was today.  I'm working for a man named Bill at the Imaging Center (real creative name there, huh?).  He's much nicer than I thought, although at times he speaks really softly and I can barely hear what he's saying to me.  We did four patients today, which is only slightly less than average.  He stuck needles in other people getting X-rays and CT scans too.  At one point, the whole needle thing got to me.  I became really lightheaded and dizzy.  I mumbled some excuse and got a drink of water to calm down.  I was fine after that.  Allison said the same thing happened to her at University, which makes me feel much better.  At least I'm not the only wimp out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill okayed the wearing of tennis shoes, so tomorrow I'm going to go out and buy some plain white ones to wear.  The low-heeled loafers I was wearing today started to hurt after awhile - they offer barely any support for standing that long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So many of the patients are frail.  They look like I can break them with a strong glance.  One lady asked if she could take her shoes of during the exam "because I'm from Florida".  Another asked if she could wear her glasses during the exam.  We assured her she could, then she asked if she needed to take her hair off.  We told her to please keep it on.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106193760567713192?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106193760567713192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106193760567713192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106193760567713192' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106141504547417643</id><published>2003-08-20T17:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-20T17:30:45.476-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm actually pretty excited about school right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At orientation today, we had a venipuncture lab.  After ten minutes of talking and a demonstration, we were unleashed on each to draw a small blood sample.  (Scary!  That's all of our training!)  I got it on the first try, but it was pretty scary the first time.  It is just not natural to stick a needle into someone on purpose.  Allison - my guinea pig - got me on the second try.  She didn't quite go deep enough on the first one, and neither sticking hurt me, which is cool.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't seem to do blood pressure though.  Aaron says he'll help me try to figure it out again tomorrow.  He says I probably had the stethescope about an inch too far to the left.  We'll see.  It was kind of embarassing to know that I can stick someone with a needle properly, but not hear their heartbeat.  I guess I'll just have to work on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm just exciting to have gotten through my first venipuncture lab.  All the anxiety is gone now and I feel so happy that I did it.  It feels like a much bigger accomplishment than it probably was, but who cares.  I did good, I'm proud, so there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106141504547417643?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106141504547417643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106141504547417643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106141504547417643' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106114683669123054</id><published>2003-08-17T15:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-17T15:00:36.570-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>School starts back up this week.  The curriculum actually looks pretty difficult.  It's a lot of independent research, which means my lazy side could get the best of me, but it'll definitely be nice to be able to work at my own pace.  Clinical days will probably kill me.  We have to be at our site by 7am.  The earliest I've ever had a college class was 9am, and I only did that for one semester.  In fact, my best semester was when I didn't have any classes before noon.  I got the best grades that semester too.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been challenged by school for so long.  Most of the ASU profs spoon-fed you every morsel of information they wanted you to know.  This one prof of mine, he just wanted you to parrot everything back on the test, using his exact words to get the most points.  I didn't learn a thing in that class.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These classes are going to resemble that hypertext novel I had to do for English II at Tech.  You started with an opening, but where you went from there was completely under your own control.  You may or may not have found what you were supposed to, but it wasn't for lack of trying.  You just didn't necessarily take the path that led there.  Instead of there being one way to get the right answer, that are endless possibilities.  It's frustrating and liberating all at once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106114683669123054?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106114683669123054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106114683669123054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106114683669123054' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106097910180928413</id><published>2003-08-15T16:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-15T16:25:00.076-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A haiku:&lt;br /&gt;Staring into space&lt;br /&gt;Watching the second hand tick&lt;br /&gt;Yup, I'm stuck at work&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106097910180928413?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106097910180928413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106097910180928413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106097910180928413' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106074424910894206</id><published>2003-08-12T23:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-12T23:13:08.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've been catching up with friends who will all be disappearing back to school soon.  Totally disregarding the fact that I'm now married and we're all going to live in different locales for the next few months, there still seems to be this difference between my friends and I - and I think I finally figured out what it was: Drama.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They all have so much more drama in their lives than I do.  She has two guys after her and can't decide who to pick - the attractive, pierced older guy, or the one who she knows can drive her crazy because she's been there and done that and wouldn't necessarily mind doing it again.  He would love to have some drama, only he can't seem to find anyone to have drama with, which is so upsetting because he really is a great guy.  And she keeps doing this weird little relationship dance with him, but he won't define it and she says she's okay with that, but she's really not, because every time he takes a step backwards - or rather, sideways is more like it - she gets hurt, and I hate seeing her like that.  He has drama with his girl, but it's like he doesn't want to admit to it, which makes it harder to resolve - although part of me wonders if he even wants to bother to resolve it in the first place.  His drama is latent, but it can't stay that way if he's going to remain part of a "we".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why don't I have drama?  I've been trying to figure this out.  Is it because I'm married?  I don't think so - lot's of married people have drama.  We have issues, even unresolved issues, but we're lacking the drama.  I think it may be that I'm inherently lazy - and let's face it - drama takes so much damn time and effort.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know, I think - to a small extent - I miss having drama.  When you hear about other people's comedies and tragedies, at least you have something to talk about, analyze, dissect, and put back together in a whole new light.  But, even though their lives are somewhat more exciting and they have all this other stuff going on, none of them really seem any happier as a result.  Some of them seem happier with the extra attention they get as a result of the melodrama, but even that dims pretty quickly once someone's changed the subject.  Instead, they're frustrated, whether they vocalize it or not, and most likely, would prefer to resolve it all and leave the drama out of their lives.  Or maybe that's just what I want to think since I don't currently have a drama in my own life.  Maybe I just feel left out and need to justify all of this - I mean, my wedding and all is over right?  So I'm not the center of attention any more - if I ever was to these people I call my friends.  Or maybe I'm just another way of changing the subject to them, and none of them &lt;i&gt;really&lt;/i&gt; notice me anymore.  Honestly, people with a drama going on are just more &lt;i&gt;interesting&lt;/i&gt; than those who don't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I've confused drama with being important to other people and excitement and change and I'm looking at this all wrong.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe I'm not wrong.  Maybe I'm exactly right.  Maybe I'm envious of them while they want to be - a little - more like me. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106074424910894206?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106074424910894206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106074424910894206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106074424910894206' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106054372654712035</id><published>2003-08-10T15:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-10T15:31:10.520-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I bought all my school textbooks online today and then when I was done, I made a &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/registry/wishlist/ref=cm_gft_sub_wl/102-3096415-7807341"&gt;wishlist.&lt;/a&gt;  Any one have any suggestions on books to add to it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICHAEL!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106054372654712035?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106054372654712035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106054372654712035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106054372654712035' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106047007057308442</id><published>2003-08-09T19:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-09T19:01:10.373-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Does anybody even read this thing anymore?  Maybe I'll take Casey's advice and switch over to LJ afterall...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Gainesville with Mom on Thursday and Friday.  I got quite ill - to the point where, when offered a &lt;i&gt;warm, chocolate chip cookie&lt;/i&gt;, I only ate half of it.  On the way home, we drove down to the Perimeter Mall outside ATL and stopped by the Crate &amp; Barrel there, and I got the rest of my plates and some silverware.  Ben doesn't like the new silverware - he say's it's too "big".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I went to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and finished buying the remaining kitchen stuff I wanted / needed.  And I've already put everything away.  I feel rather accomplished - except for the fact that very few people will probably come to actually see it.  Oh well.  I got new stuff, and that makes me happy - so there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106047007057308442?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106047007057308442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106047007057308442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106047007057308442' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-106021878906912385</id><published>2003-08-06T21:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-06T21:13:38.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Really, this shouldn't have been that hard.  All I was trying to do was send a current ASU transcript to MCG.  So, on the last day of my summer class, I went over to the registar's office, filled out the requisite form, checked the little box that said "Hold for Grades", and that should have been the end of it.  But no, MCG never received a transcript.  So, on Monday, I go back to ASU, fill out the same stupid little form, but with a new name, and make a point of telling them that the transcript will be under a different last name - which I also wrote down under "special instructions" on the form.  Did MCG get it?  Yes.  Was there still a problem?  Yes.  Apparently, the transcript lists the classes I'm currently registered in for fall at ASU.  I went back to ASU today and asked them if they could please send a transcript that didn't list those fall classes, as I won't actually be staying enrolled in them.  Well, they can't.  I have to drop the classes first.  But I can't drop the classes until registration opens back up.  Which is next Wednesday.  THIS SHOULD NOT BE THIS DIFFICULT!!  IT'S JUST A FREAKING TRANSCRIPT!!!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I feel (slightly) better now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I baked cupcakes the late Monday night.  Two days later, we've already eaten 14 of them.  I am personally eating way too many cupcakes, but can't seem to stop.  I think I'll be cured when I run out though.  At least the problem has a built in solution.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-106021878906912385?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106021878906912385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/106021878906912385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106021878906912385' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105984902581440716</id><published>2003-08-02T14:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-02T14:30:25.733-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>August is going to be a very, very busy month.  Things to do:  everything for changing my name, combining finances, insurances, all that crap, officially enroll and related things for MCG, officially withdraw from ASU, redirect my scholarships to the proper school (and hope the name change doesn't throw them), finish TY notes from wedding, finish putting away wedding related stuff, go the eye doctor, go to the normal doctor, shop for a "business casual" wardrobe for clinical days, take a CPR class, trip to Gainesville with mom next week, keep working for dad, figure out how to work during the school year, the pre-orientation tutorials for MCG, orientation, school starting - and of course, Ben's going to mess up everything Monday and start working the night shift.  Argh!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, some of that stuff I've done - kinda.  I did change our insurances, but we're still trying to cancel the old policies.  Our finances are halfway combined - but the insurance thing is slowing it down.  I have a good start on a business casual wardrobe now - I was forced to raid the Gap though and give them way too much money.  This morning I also raided Office Depot for the items on the "Suggested School Supplies" list, conveniently mailed to me from MCG.  Later, I need to try to find cheap medical textbooks from amazon or half.com or somewhere.  I'm also going to attempt to write a few more TY notes today.  Those are going to take forever.  I have the names of who I need to send notes to, by neither mom has given me the addresses for all these people.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If any of you have pictures from my wedding, I'd like to see them - I haven't seen ANY yet!!  Apparently my parents forgot to take any on the actual wedding day, but I still haven't even seen what pictures they did manage to take.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, we're somehow practically broke again.  How did that happen???  Oh yes, the Gap took my money, and so did the fine people of the Dominican Republic.  Sigh.  And of course, my scholarships will probably be extra late this year, since they're all being sent to the wrong school.  On the bright side, Ben did get a raise - and while he's on the night shift, he'll be working 72 hrs/ wk - 12 hrs a day, 6 days a week - which is a lot of overtime I suppose.   I was depressed yesterday when I realized that we now owe more on our credit cards than we do for the motorcycle.  It's easier to pay for a vehicle than to pay for various clothes, food, gas, and, oh yeah, a honeymoon.  Oh well, we'll get out of debt - at a snail's pace maybe, but we'll get there.  I'm hoping we'll be debt free again, or close to it, within the next 18 months.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone seen any good movies lately?  It looks like a bunch of good ones came out in the last 2-3 weeks, but I haven't been to the movies in awhile now.  What's actually worth going to see?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105984902581440716?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105984902581440716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105984902581440716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#105984902581440716' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105960294755083933</id><published>2003-07-30T18:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-30T18:09:07.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Everyone should get married just so they have an excuse to take a honeymoon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105960294755083933?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105960294755083933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105960294755083933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105960294755083933' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105892364467395983</id><published>2003-07-22T21:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-22T21:28:02.590-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Casey's the best!  I'm lucky to have her as a best friend - the rest of you will have to find someone else, 'cause she's taken.  She wrote this and I'm totally stealing it from her because I think it's sweet:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote this this weekend right after the wedding. It is cheesy and overly lyrical, but so am I:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is the afternoon of my best friend's wedding, the wind is blowing south-southwest, and the dog has taken up residence under the buffet table just below the chocolate seashells. There's something trite in the air, just above the "art of a good marriage" poetry and above well wishes of good health. But the smell is more of salt water sprinkled sun than used cliches, and the waves whisper instead of the breeze. My rose-tinted glasses are only to keep out the sun, and my best friend lacks lenses. I am not afraid of marriage in the same way that I am not afraid of the ocean. I like the idea of it, the comfort of how cool it would be around my ankles. I go in where I can see the bottom and watch the waves go by from the shore. I can swim but I don't care to if I don't know where I'm swimming. My best friend has just jumped off of the dock, a swan dive that makes me jealous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations, Stacy. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105892364467395983?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105892364467395983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105892364467395983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105892364467395983' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105875473946616454</id><published>2003-07-20T22:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-20T22:32:19.450-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'M MARRIED!!! Oh yeah!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105875473946616454?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105875473946616454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105875473946616454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105875473946616454' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105837049293171073</id><published>2003-07-16T11:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-16T11:48:12.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ok everyone - this is it!  I'm leaving today to head down to the beach for the wedding.  Hopefully, I'll see a bunch of you there!  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105837049293171073?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105837049293171073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105837049293171073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105837049293171073' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105796586862672456</id><published>2003-07-11T19:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-11T19:24:28.590-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My dog got partially run over today.  My dog is the neighborhood dog, and really enjoys being around people.  Usually, once my parents both leave for work, she goes across the street to hang out with our neighbors, where there is another dog and a cat to hang out with, along with Mrs. Pope.  So my dog was just chilling, lounging under Mr. Pope's truck trying to sleep in the shade.  The Pope's next door neighbor was out cutting his grass.  Mr. Pope gets in his truck to go to work, and apparently the dog didn't hear the truck start because of the lawn mower.  Mr. Pope starts to back up, and hears this horrible racket - that racket being my dog in pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pope's call Dad at work, and I tell them which vet to take her to.  She has a deep scratch - to the muscle - down half the length of her rear leg and is missing a big chunk of fur from her side where I guess she was shoved along the driveway.  But she didn't break any bones and there are no internal injuries, which is good.  She'll heal, but she looks like hell, from what Mom says - who went and visited her at the vet this afternoon.  The vet is keeping her overnight for observation.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This dog is seriously the neighborhood dog.  The Pope's feel horrible, their daughter was crying, the lawn-mowing neighbor feels awful, my mom - well, the dog is like my mom's favorite child...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to have to go visit my poor mutt tomorrow.  Poor, stupid dog.  Maybe she's learned not to sleep under trucks anymore, but I doubt it.  Maybe she's at least learned to move out from under them when they start up.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105796586862672456?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105796586862672456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105796586862672456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105796586862672456' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105787061958955157</id><published>2003-07-10T16:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-10T16:56:59.353-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>YAY!!!!!  I just got a call from Mimi and I've been accepted to the nuclear medicine program at MCG in the fall!!!!!  Someone dropped out and I was the first alternate.  I'm so excited!!!!!!!!!  Go Stacy, go Stacy, go Stacy....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105787061958955157?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105787061958955157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105787061958955157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105787061958955157' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105778310634082351</id><published>2003-07-09T16:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-09T16:42:52.980-04:00</updated><title type='text'>buried treasure</title><content type='html'>When I went to the grocery store Monday, but I bought a container of 20 huge (palm-sized) chocolate chip cookies.  I hid them in a little used kitchen drawer and didn't tell Ben about them.  I don't plan on telling Ben about them at all.  Does this make me a bad person?  In my defense, I did bake cinnamon muffins which he is free to eat.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105778310634082351?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105778310634082351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105778310634082351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105778310634082351' title='buried treasure'/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105754438303930056</id><published>2003-07-06T22:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-06T22:19:43.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ahhh - finally home again.  The apartment actually looked vaguely unfamiliar as I first walked in the door - but the cats still recognized me, which I take as a good sign.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beach was wonderful, but it always is.  The first few days of wedding planning wasn't even that bad - except that we had a lot of pop-up thundershowers.  Also, the florist we were going to use apparently went out of business, as there as a chocolate shop there now.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elizabeth, Jordan, and Grandy came down Wednesday.  It was nice to have some company other than the moms.  Jordan has changed a lot in the past year.  She and Elizabeth get on surprisingly well, but we got rid of her that night and stayed up talking until after 2 a.m.  On Thursday night, Ben showed up early and surprised me.  Apparently his scheduled Friday job was completed on Thursday so he didn't have to be in.  Yay!  Unfortunately, he was in a really, really bad mood when he arrived because something went wrong with the bike.  Stupid machine - it's way more trouble and money than it's worth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday morning, we went tubing.  I did a pathetic job of staying on the tube.  Although, in my defense, the first time I fell off, my bikini bottoms came off, so I was a lot more cautious after that.  Time crawled on Friday and Saturday.  I had a routine - read the book, sit out front, work on the puzzle, repeat.  Time still crawled.  Me and Jordan even took a 2 mile walk down the beach to pass the time.  We walked through shin deep muck to get a look at a massive conch shell, which had an equally massive critter still inside, so we left him alone after poking at him for a few minutes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, I spent almost all day out on the water.  Me, Ben, and Brian went waterskiing and kneeboarding in the morning - or rather, they did, and I was the spotter.  The water was too choppy though, so that didn't last for long.  After lunch, we went out to the sandbars for the whole afternoon.  I found some sand dollars and I saved a starfish was death.  Me and Ben went on a really long walk from sandbar to sandbar - you could get to them by walking through about knee deep intervals of ocean in between for about 1000 or so feet.  I saw a few jellyfish in the water during the ocean parts of the walk, which freaked me out as it always does.  Ben roasted that day - so I spent that night rubbing aloe on him.  Actually, we (me, Ben, and Brian) also drove into town that night and got Dairy Queen to go then walked around the boat dealership picking out our future boats - all completely out of price range of course, but that's half the fun.  Oh yes, and that tubing from Friday - yeah, ouch.  I discovered I have muscles I didn't have before - they were painfully trying to come into existence.  Muscles around my armpits, that are probably part of my pecs, and down my back.  I thought washing my hair was going to kill me, along with any other activity that required raising my arms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read two books while I was there.  &lt;i&gt;Slaughterhouse-Five&lt;/i&gt; was rather horrible.  Unless you like to read a story where the main character is abducted by aliens, is an optometrist, time travels, and is in WWII all in the same paragraph, you won't like this book.  I'm not sure why a lot of high school kids are forced to read it.  I found no redeeming qualities.  &lt;i&gt; So it goes. &lt;/i&gt;  I also read a book Hallie had lent me - &lt;i&gt;True to Form&lt;/i&gt; by Elizabeth Berg.  I liked the writing style, but the story ended rather abruptly.  Also, it was the third in a series about the main character, so I felt a little like I was missing something.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I woke up and I'm still stiff, but not as bad.  Now the pain is more like a 7 than a 9.8.  I convinced Paul to put in his 14 ft. boat this morning and take me for a ride.  We saw some dolphins and rode down to the marina where all the really expensive yachts and sailboats are.  The water was choppy on the way back though and I was soaked.  It felt like I had gone swimming instead of boating.  I came back with Ben and Brian.  I was forced to listen to some really bad (in my opinion) country music for half the trip.  My pleas for something better were blatantly ignored, so I pouted in the backseat, but no one saw.  They were both too busy singing about cows stampeding and Copenhagen chewing tobacco.  We did just eat a huge delicious meal at T.G.I. Friday's, which partially, but not quite, makes up for the awful music.  Now, I am pleasantly overstuffed, and have to deal with my apartment that was left to Ben's mercy all week.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105754438303930056?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105754438303930056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105754438303930056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105754438303930056' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105693895915162989</id><published>2003-06-29T22:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-29T22:09:19.153-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's crunch time for wedding planning - which means Mom and I are taking another trip down to Beaufort to finalize plans with all the vendors, and finish finding the vendors we don't have but still need.  We're taking down a lot of the wedding stuff too (decorations, sodas, other assorted but related things).  We're also taking the dog - although I don't think she necessarily falls in the "wedding stuff" category, other than as a guest.  I'm slightly concerned about leaving Akira alone there while we make those long trips into town, but hopefully she will behave herself.  We're leaving tomorrow after lunch, and Mom will come back Thursday sometime.  I'm just going to stay down there for the 4th of July fun that always goes on.  I think I'm going to take a bunch of the books Casey and Hallie lent to me and try to read a few while I'm down there.  It's going to be a full house - I think 11 or so of us will be down, plus a few dogs.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully Ben will come down for the weekend so I have a way home.  And maybe we'll get some fireworks.  Hehe, fire - right Hallie??  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the dress from Friday?  Yeah, there are some random wrinkles in the fabric on my stomach they can't get rid of.  Apparently, if I were fatter, they wouldn't be there.  I can either have lots of little wrinkles, or one big one across my waist.  Hopefully, once it's actually sewed and not just pinned it won't be as bad as it looked Friday - either way, there's not a whole heck of a lot I can do about it at this point.  Except try to hide the wrinkles with my bouquet - which may be my miracle remedy.  :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, we had a wedding present arrive - my pots and pans!! I'm so happy - the one's we had were starting to fall apart - seriously, the handles were getting loose and were going to break off soon.  So I made Ben a big batch of spaghetti tonight for him to eat while I'm gone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I come back on Sunday or next week, will someone please remind me that we still need to actually go and get a marraige license?  I have this funny feeling I'm only going to remember that at the last minute - and once I come back, we only have a week and a half to do it.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105693895915162989?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105693895915162989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105693895915162989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105693895915162989' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105673843009557233</id><published>2003-06-27T14:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-29T15:08:31.233-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Going for dress alterations today - I'm actually nervous.  I'm scared they'll mess up somehow and then I won't have a dress to wear and I won't have time to find a new one.   Omigod - that sounded &lt;i&gt;so&lt;/i&gt; girly.  How unlike me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105673843009557233?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105673843009557233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105673843009557233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105673843009557233' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-105666617444594341</id><published>2003-06-26T18:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-27T11:41:02.193-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Reality hit today.  I'm getting married in like three weeks.  It's not like I'm getting cold feet.  Mostly I just feel anxiety about the sheer amount of planning and preperation that still has to be done.  According to my "To Do" checklist, I have 24 days to tackle 56 tasks.  Hmmm.  That doesn't sound good - although a few, like writing thank you notes, I don't have to complete until &lt;i&gt;after&lt;/i&gt; the wedding.  Unfortunately, the majority do have to be taken care of - and soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've actually been really good about exercising.  It's getting easier, and I've been able to stay on the elliptical machine for longer periods of time, and I love the feeling when I'm done.  But, a lot of the time, it's still really hard to convince myself to start.  My body doesn't seem to care anymore.  I was all excited at first because I could see real change occuring, but for the last few weeks, progress has been stagnant.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been craving icing really bad.  I haven't given in to the urge and made cupcakes or anything yet.  I'm contemplating just opening the tub of icing and digging in with a spoon though.  I've resisted so far, but I think my resolve is steadily weakening.  Just 3 more weeks and it won't matter.  I won't have to worry about fitting in to some silly dress.  Grrrrr.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-105666617444594341?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105666617444594341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/105666617444594341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#105666617444594341' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95957303</id><published>2003-06-23T16:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-23T16:19:47.033-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We went to the beach Saturday night and came back late Sunday.  His new neighbors were down - we got to meet them.  They have three kids - two adopted, but who are biological brother and sister.  One of the boys cut his knee pretty bad on the oyster rakes out front and got to take a trip to the emergency room for stitches.  For such a little kid, he handled it really well.  While he was at the ER though, we watched the other two kids.  The girl's name was Angel and she was anything but.  Not that she misbehaved, she just drove me crazy.  "Read me a story", "push me on the swing", "blah blah blah blah", she wouldn't shut up!  And she had these two dolls she carried around everywhere.  If I ever have kids, I hope I have boys.  Boys have got to be easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cats apparently missed us terribly while we were gone, because they won't leave me alone today.  It's like they expect two days worth of attention in one.  And of course I do feel slightly guilty for leaving them, so I humor them and pet and pet and pet and pet them.  And then when I finally stop, they look at me so pitifully and say, "meow" in such a sad tone I feel compelled to continue with the non-stop petting.  Does this mean I'm pussy-whipped??  Actually, don't answer that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95957303?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95957303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95957303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95957303' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95932077</id><published>2003-06-22T23:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-22T23:05:21.873-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I got up at 8:15 this morning.  Of my own free will.  I consider this an accomplishment.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95932077?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95932077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95932077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95932077' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95693781</id><published>2003-06-15T17:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-15T17:11:37.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, he's finally off the night shift - which is wonderful, because we finally see each other again.  Last night, we caught &lt;i&gt;2 Fast 2 Furious&lt;/i&gt;, which was much better than I expected it to be.  I liked this one better than the first one.  The only thing that was weird, was the half developed romance between Paul Walker and Eva Mendes.  It was like Paul fell instantly and completely in love with Eva, and then, rarely ever saw her, except to send her longing glances and save her life.  Very weird.  But the stunts and everything were awesome.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We chowed down on some massive burgers at T-Bones later that night.  That restaurant has changed.  They used to always have really hot girls in short shorts as waitresses.  I didn't see much thigh at all and the girls - well, some might pass for "attractive" but that's about it.  I think Ben was more interested in their Long Island iced tea anyway.  Plus, they have really, really good bread.  I'm such a sucker for restaurants that bring you bread to munch the whole time.  I truly believe I could solely live on carbs.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our first wedding gift arrived the other day.  A serving bowl and serving platter from Ben's uncle.  I discovered that the platter - with a 13" diamter - was about 3-4" too large to fit in the cabinets.  So it's in a drawer.  Isn't that a weird place for a plate?  I wasn't really sure where else to put it though.  Then I had to call Mom to figure out if I was supposed to go ahead and write and send the thank you note, or wait until after the wedding.  Turns out, I shouldn't write the thank you until after the wedding, but I also shouldn't have opened the gift until after the wedding.  Yeah.  Too late.  Besides, it's not like I have a lot of storage places for large packages from Crate &amp; Barrel.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried on my wedding dress Friday.  Good thing I didn't go a size smaller when I ordered it.  It just fits around my rib-cage area.  No deep breaths for me.  I looked really tan in it though, which was cool.  I think it was just the lighting there though.  I don't look nearly so tan in white shirts or anything.  I also pawned off an unwanted shower gift to my mom, who in turn pawned it off as a wedding gift for one of her coworkers.  Reduce, reuse, recycle, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95693781?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95693781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95693781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95693781' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95607775</id><published>2003-06-12T18:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-12T18:56:39.730-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The true start to my summer has arrived - school has ended until fall.  I got an A in the class (or at least, after receiving an A on all three assignments, I'm assuming he'll give me an A).  I think at this point though, my GPA won't even change; I have so many hours I don't think the addition of three more will make any difference.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our new mattress arrived yesterday - bless the Simmons Beautyrest gods!  I &lt;i&gt;adore&lt;/i&gt; it!  It has this wonderfully soft pillowtop - basically, a few inches of extra padding on top.  It's funny though, because it's probably 6 inches taller than our old mattress.  So now, instead of falling into bed, I have to jump into bed.  Last night, after going to the bathroom in the dark, I misjudged it's height and didn't jump high enough.  I did on the second try though!  I slept soooo nicely.  Although I do wonder if some of that has to do with the fact that Ben is working night shift this week.... hmmm...  Anyways, I got to use a bunch of my shower gifts - my new mattress pad, and a new set of sheets.  And of course, my new gorgeous quilt that I bought at Lenox last weekend.  It looks, well, very bright.  And cheerful.  Which is wonderful in the morning, but not very restful looking at night.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting married in 37 days - according to the automatic countdown on my account at &lt;a href="http://www.theknot.com"&gt;the knot&lt;/a&gt;.  Wow.  A few times, I've tried to sign my soon-to-be-name.  It looks funny to me.  I guess I'll get used to it.  Although, the other day, I accidentally referred to Ben as my boyfriend instead of fiance.  I wonder how long it will take for me to be able to refer to him as my husband.  And to answer to "Mrs. Tanner".  Whenever I hear that, I think of his mom.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wedding dress is apparently in.  The store called two days ago.  I'm going to go look at it tomorrow, just to make sure they ordered the right one.  I've decided to wait a week or two to get it altered;  I've actually been good about exercising and I'm seeing some results, so I want to make sure the dress is altered to the right size - or rather, the new, sleeker size I'm becoming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and Andy, you have 9 days, according to the warnings the computer keeps giving me, to get a legal copy of Windows on my computer.  I hope I'm going to be seeing you soon!  If not, in 9 days, I will start bugging you like you wouldn't believe.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95607775?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95607775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95607775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95607775' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95443533</id><published>2003-06-08T21:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-08T21:08:19.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It should be illegal to get up before 5AM on Saturday.  But we did anyway.  And then we drove to Atlanta for his rugby tournament - where they played three games.  The outcome:  beaten badly, beaten, got their asses kicked.  So, we didn't have to hang around for any "championship bracket" games.  We called up Casey, drove over to her new apartment - which is really, really awesome by the way.  Then, we headed over to the Lenox mall, so I could get something from Crate &amp; Barrel that was in limited quantity.  We ended up at Phipps after that and caught Finding Nemo - which would have been funnier in other circumstances.  See, we saw a Saturday afternoon 5:00 showing - and by the time we got into the theater, the only seats we could find were all the way on the side, third row from the front.  So not cool.  I had a massive headache afterwards from being so close to the screen; so did Ben.  We bickered for quite awhile about where to get some food afterwards, but finally settled on the Old Spaghetti Factory, which is probably one of my favorite Atlanta restaurants.  Ben was impressed.  I think he liked all the chandeliers.  And that Long Island iced tea he got.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After we ate, we just headed back to Casey's.  She finally bought a dress for the wedding, and she looks very pretty in it - it's coral with an abstract, beaded design.  It was really nice to sit around and catch up with her.  She lent me a whole bunch of books to read, since I'm too poor to buy any for myself right now, and too damn lazy to go to a library.  Two of Margaret Atwood's, a Neal Stephenson, a Sylvia Plath, a Kurt Vonnegut, and some other chick - who Casey promises me is really funny.  Ben fell asleep around 10:00pm, and Casey and I kept talking until close to midnight, when I was just too tired - not surprising since we got up so early though.  Casey actually went out after that and hung out with some other friends for awhile.  She tried to entice me into coming along with the bribe of seeing kittens, but I was pretty dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We slept on this air mattress and discovered a few things:  Since Ben weighs a lot more than me, so he sank to the floor, and my side didn't give much at all.  But we survived.  The apartment has garden tubs, which makes me insanely jealous, so my revenge was taking a really long, hot shower in the morning.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed over to the Deringer's for lunch and our last counseling session this morning.  They cooked us a really good lunch.  We also worked out the ceremony details, which was both harder and easier than I thought.  Hopefully, everything will come together okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we're back, and I'm tired, and it's getting late and we still have to unpack, clean, and eat some dinner.  And all I really wanna do is go soak in my not-so-spectacular normal-size bathtub.  And sleep and sleep and sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95443533?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95443533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95443533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95443533' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95301102</id><published>2003-06-04T17:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-04T17:22:34.350-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've finally figured out a workable schedule for fall - although I'm still debating how many hours total to take.  Do I take 11-12 with the assumption I'll get into MCG next year?  Do I take 15-16 with the assumption I won't, which would set me up to graduate from ASU next December?  Hmmm, I have all five days to decide...  Looks like HOPE will run out for me after this semester anyway, which might mean I should take more hours, so I could graduate from ASU faster if I need to.  Oh, I don't know, I'll think about it later.  All I've decided for sure is that I'm going to take Zoology and Ecology.  The others I'm considering are Humanities I, Precalculus, Intro to Government, and Jogging.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also trying to think of a topic for my last speech.  The guidelines:  It must be persuasive and we must have four sources to back up our claims.  I'm considering the European view of sexuality being superior to the American view, that daycare is better for children than having a stay-at-home mom, and that tanning beds are safer than just laying out in the sun.  Also have five days to figure this out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I have four days to finalize the details of the wedding ceremony.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, why, why has this turned out to be a busy week???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95301102?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95301102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95301102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95301102' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95164578</id><published>2003-06-01T17:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-06-01T17:34:26.046-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We went to the lake and it was wonderful to just lay there while Ben paddled us around.  When I got back, I even had a nice little note from Morgan saying to have a nice time and remember to wear sunscreen... yeah, if I had only listened to that last part of the advice.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet, Stacy the Tomato.  She's the hot new thing burning up the place!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95164578?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95164578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95164578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95164578' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95139399</id><published>2003-05-31T23:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-31T23:12:43.030-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was practically better than Christmas!!! I had my last bridal shower - and discovered, to my delight, that church ladies are &lt;i&gt;very&lt;/i&gt; generous gift givers, even to people they've never met.  Then, my mom and I went to JCPenney's and I used my five gift cards from the last shower and bought the rest of the stuff that had been on that registry (all four items).  Happened on a decent sale and bought a bunch of bras (Buy 2, Get 2 free).  One of them was blue.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finished doing that stuff around four, then me and Ben headed over to Logan's for an early (for us) dinner and caught &lt;i&gt;Bruce Almighty&lt;/i&gt;, which I found quite funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The icing on the cake was, when we got home, Trish had left a message on the answering machine saying one last shower gift had been delivered to her house, it was big, and did we want to come pick it up?  And of course I wanted to go get it!  So we did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The loot I got today, or at least, what all I can remember:  a framed art print, a banana hammock (which I think is the coolest thing ever!), a George Foreman Double Knockout grill, a chip and dip set, a crystal candy bowl, a giant Igloo cooler, an acrylic pitcher with four coordinating glasses, muffin and mini muffin pans, a beach towel, two duffel bags (one big, one small, both red and black), $110, a hand mixer, assorted cooking utensils (big spoons, a potato masher), a mixing bowl, measuring cups, measuring spoons, a storage container, a salt and pepper set (the cool kind that actually grinds the pepper), Pyrex bakeware, cookie sheets, coolings racks, and even some lingerie.  It's crazy!  Now, I'm not exactly sure where I'm going to store all of this new stuff, but I'll figure that out later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow me and Ben are headed up to the lake with the canoe.  I plan on taking my book and laying in the sun; I think Ben's more interesting in swimming.  I think we're even going to take a picnic lunch (in our new cooler, perhaps??).  How nice does all that sound?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and then I can come home and write out a zillion thank you notes - again!  :-)  But that's a small price to pay for so much awesome stuff.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, it's kind of scary - I had just registered about Bed, Bath, and Beyond like, a week ago, and my whole registry there is practically bought already.  There are only twelve items left and most of it is for rather cheap stuff.  It's crazy how fast these women shopped!  Not that I'm complaining by &lt;i&gt;any&lt;/i&gt; stretch of the imagination.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95139399?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95139399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95139399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#95139399' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-95050074</id><published>2003-05-29T16:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-29T16:52:47.480-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>YAY!!! Booked the honeymoon!  The wedding stuff is finally wrapping up.  Invitations are out, except for a few, tents are reserved, ceremony is partially planned, food is mostly planned, dress is ordered, favors made, last bridal shower on Saturday...  And now I know for sure we get to escape to paradise to relax for a few days afterwards.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hallie came over yesterday.  It's always good to see her.  She sounds like she's doing well but then I read her opendiary and she doesn't sound nearly as happy in that.  Is she lying to me or have those issues stopped bothering her?  She promises me she's coming to the wedding though - so that's good.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben's been really bitchy recently - like he has PMS or something.  Not sure if the little things that go wrong during everyone's day are eating at him or what.  Or maybe it's me and I'm in denial about it.  Rugby and beer seems to cheer him up though.  And falling asleep on the couch, while claiming to still be watching the TV show that's on in the background.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was looking at our bills today and it's just depressing sometimes about the debt we have.  Yes, we pay off more debt that we get into each month, but the amounts we owe just don't seem to go down very quickly, and it's frustrating.  And then of course, all the other random expenses that appear have to be taken care of too - like new truck tires, and prescription medications, and veterinarian visits.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I was over at Mom and Dad's today, booking the honeymoon with Mom, when I noticed these two plastic dog piggy banks that are in the corner of the family room.  It's one of those things that you've seen so many times that you don't even notice anymore when you walk in the room.  Except, for most people, these would probably stand out.  They are two and a half foot tall, plastic piggy banks.  One is bright blue and is an upright, sitting basset hound looking dog wearing a tux-like vest, with a smashed in nose when he tipped over on his face once.  Also, one of his paws has been chewed on by Kira.  His name is Patches and my Dad got him and his been filling him since he was fifteen.  He thinks there could be rather valuable older coins in the bottom of Patches.  The other one, is a bright pink poodle, also sitting upright.  My mom got Fifi as a child.  How random is it that as children they both got plastic neon dog banks?  And kept them?!  Anyways, the point is, it occured to me that there is probably a decent amount of money in these - especially Patches, you can hardly budge him - even if they were only filled with pennies.  I mean, pennies add up!!  So I called Dad and tried to convince him to give me Patches to help pay for the honeymoon, but apparently, he is insanely attached to that thing.  Mom seems to be wavering slightly about Fifi's fate - although I think her main hesitation about giving up Fifi is the way you get the money out.  See, there is no opening in the bottom, so the only way to actually remove the coins is, well, beheading her.  While I see how this could be traumatic, I'm a bit more concerned that there is potentially a good bit of money in there that I could use towards the honeymoon - I'm even offering to split the money with Michael, so they don't play favorites or anything like that.  It's time for the dogs to die.  Mwahahahaha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-95050074?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95050074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/95050074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#95050074' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-94900191</id><published>2003-05-26T11:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-26T11:51:18.030-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Discovery of the weekend:  The later it is at night, the better pizza tastes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-94900191?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94900191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94900191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94900191' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-94835765</id><published>2003-05-24T15:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-24T15:14:31.690-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, I had my first bridal shower.  It was more fun than I thought it would be - considering I didn't know very many of the guests at all.  We played a game called "20 Questions" where my mom had called Ben and asked him questions about me, and for every answer I had that matched his, I got $5 - so I could have won $100.  But I only got $60.  Some of the Q and A's were amusing.  Examples:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  If Ben could change one thing about you, what would it be?&lt;br /&gt;My A:  Ummmm, my father??&lt;br /&gt;(huge laughing fit from all the women)&lt;br /&gt;His A:  My fear of the dark&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q:  According to Ben, what are your measurements?&lt;br /&gt;My A:  He won't know this, but maybe 34 - 26 - 36.&lt;br /&gt;His A:  34 -14 - 26.&lt;br /&gt;(another laughing fit -- yes Ben, my waist is inches smaller than your &lt;i&gt;neck&lt;/i&gt;!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q.  What is Stacy's favorite sport?&lt;br /&gt;My A:  I don't really have one, but maybe male gymnastics.&lt;br /&gt;His A:  Couch sitting.&lt;br /&gt;(Ben sucks for that answer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coco, Toni's golden retriever, was the star of the show.  She kept going around the room begging to be petted.  People would cooperate for awhile, then get tired of it, then she'd just move right on to the next person.  Anyways, I received all kinds of nifty gifts - knives, glasses, towels, luggage, sheets, &lt;i&gt;lots&lt;/i&gt; of gift cards.  Four or five people who couldn't come to the shower still sent a gift anyway, so I really made out well.  As a result though, there's not too much left on my JCPenney registry and yesterday Mom and I went and I registered at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.  I moved a bunch of stuff from my Crate and Barrel registry to BBB.  My favorite thing I registered for yesterday is &lt;a href="http://www.bedbathandbeyond.com/product.asp?order_num=-1&amp;SKU=10525586"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.  I think it's awesome - but then again, I'm easily amused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and I also went to the travel agent.  Turns out my honeymoon is probably going to cost than I want.  Airfare prices just suck!  Hopefully Mom will find some amazing way to make it work for us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben's working this whole weekend for some extra money.  I kind of feel bad for him, but we really need the money, so I guess it's kind of a good thing.  Tomorrow he's going to be working at a slaughterhouse though - how gross is that?!&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/5158265-94835765?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94835765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94835765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94835765' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-94700197</id><published>2003-05-21T15:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-21T18:32:28.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Another spurt of wedding activity has commenced.  Invitations have been printed - painstakingly, one piece of paper / cardstock / envelope at a time.  They have been assembled with a sheer silver ribbon.  They are getting postage as we speak.  Honeymoon booking is also beginning.  As is menu choosing and bridal showers.  Ahhh, the joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speech class update:  still weird.  We all have to write down a topic, pull it from an envelope, then speak on it for two minutes with no prep time.  No big deal right?  People were getting nice easy topics:  what is your favorite movie?  what would you do if you won the lottery?  how do you feel about the United States?  Then my turn.  I got my piece of paper and all it said was "gym memberships".  Uh, ok.  So I talked about gym memberships.  And that's what I did in class today.  Thrilling, isn't it.  I can hardly wait for tomorrow when we actually begin - gasp! - real speeches.  You know, the really important kind that last all of five minutes and are assigned for a speech class you don't really want to take so you sign up to take in the summer where you can just get it over with in four weeks instead of having it drag out into 15 weeks of drivel.  You know, that kind.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-94700197?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94700197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94700197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94700197' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-94597791</id><published>2003-05-19T16:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-19T16:41:58.093-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It felt like we didn't even have a weekend.  But at least he was home so there was a "we".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, we had to pick up wedding bands.  Ben didn't quite like his, so we've ordered a new one and it'll be in later this week.  We went and visited his folks 'cause he hadn't seen them in a few weeks.  It was an anniversary, but we didn't really do anything special.  We hit Sam's.  We should not be allowed to go there.  We always seem to find extra stuff to buy.  Not that we bought tons of extra stuff - but we did somehow manage to spend more than $60.00.  They had this gigantic tent there for like $80, and all of these neat camping accessories - portable A/C, a queen size air mattress, fold up camp kitchen, even sunscreen.  We contemplated buying a bunch of it - then thought - oh yeah, we already have enough debt.  Maybe later.  We had free tickets to a country concert with some no-so-well-known singers, but after sitting in the rain and watching the lightning for an hour, we decided it wasn't worth it - even if the tickets were free.  Random observation:  the people who attend country concerts are, on average, much uglier than the people who attend other concerts.  Could the whole "redneck" deep-fry everything diet be the cause?  Or are ugly people just attracted to country music?  The world may never know.  Anyways.  So we hit Chili's and got some grub and drinks.  I didn't get ID'ed - which seemed like an accomplishment at the time.  Their mudslide was &lt;i&gt;awesome&lt;/i&gt; and their Calypso Cooler was, well, interesting, but I probably wouldn't bother to order it again.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday - time for premarital counseling.  Had to wake up early - like 8:30 AM on Sunday - which is highly unreasonable to me, but I still managed to get up, which is an achievement.  Left by 9:30 to drive to Lawrenceville (near Atlanta).  Of course, we ended up missing a turn somewhere and having to backtrack 20 minutes, but due to Ben's excessive speeding while I slept, we were still on time.  We went to this great little Italian place called Ippolito's.  Then we talked about whether happiness is a choice and about communication.  Not the most enlightening stuff - but, then again, I've taken a goodly number of psychology classes at this point and have heard all of this same information before.  Tried to drive home.  Construction and bad rain made people think they could only drive 30 on I-20.  We dug out a map and took some unlabeled backroads for about 40 miles then hopped back on the interstate where traffic was flowing just &lt;i&gt;slightly&lt;/i&gt; faster.  Finally got home at 7:45.  We were too tired to do much more than eat the rest of our lunch from Ipp's and crash on the couch.  I did - for some unknown reason - stay up and watch the finale of &lt;i&gt;The Bachelor&lt;/i&gt;.  He chose the right girl out of the two choices he had left - but how long will it last?  Cynical me suspects not too long once the show's spotlight fades but Romantic me hopes it works out for their sake.  And because Andrew Firestone is darn cute.  And rich.  The rich part doesn't exactly hurt.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still dying to see &lt;i&gt;The Matrix: Reloaded&lt;/i&gt;.  Hopefully this week or next weekend.  Maybe Ben will get off soon and we'll catch it tonight or something so the crowd isn't so bad.  That'd be cool.  I've heard lots of good things about it.  And then afterward, we can get ice cream or something for dinner.  That would make for a nice Monday night.  Don'tcha think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-94597791?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94597791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94597791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94597791' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-94347491</id><published>2003-05-14T16:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-14T16:29:18.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>School started for me again today.  I'm only taking one class though - it's basically a speech class.  We have four speeches to give, so basically one a week.  And we all sit in a circle - which I hate.  The professor is - interesting.  Apparently, he used to work in Hollywood - he wrote and produced for shows like &lt;i&gt;Welcome Back Kotter&lt;/i&gt; (sp?), and something called &lt;i&gt;Our Magazine&lt;/i&gt;, and &lt;i&gt;The Mickey Mouse Club&lt;/i&gt;.  And then, for some reason, the lure of ASU was too hard to resist and he winded up here.  He looks like Willy Wonka from &lt;i&gt;Charlie and the Chocolate Factory&lt;/i&gt; and seems like one of those people who cares waaaaay too much about hurting someone's feelings.  Like we're in middle school, and not college.  But whatever.  The only cool thing about the class so far is he decided we don't need to have class on Fridays.  Yippee!  One day off a week from it - I really wasn't looking forward to going everyday.  Oh, and after I bought the book for the class, the prof said we're not going to use it.  So I went to return it and the stupid place had closed.  And I'm worried about having trouble returning it tomorrow, 'cause I didn't get a receipt - but I did sign a piece of paper they keep - so I better get my $43 back!  I tried to sell back last semester's $300 worth of books and got a rousing $49, because two of the books are coming out with new editions.  I got back $6.00 on the $120 Abnormal Psych textbook I had bought brand new in January.  I hate textbook companies.  It's just ridiculous.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been a bit bad and I keep sneaking peeks at my registries online and seeing what's been bought so far.  Someone bought my set of pots and pans, which I was really hoping to get, so that makes me happy.  But so far, the only gifts that have been bought have come from JCPenney.  Apparently, people don't want to / are scared of ordering off the internet at &lt;a href="http://www.crateandbarrel.com"&gt;www.crateandbarrel.com&lt;/a&gt;.  'Cause, you know, the internet is sooooo shady.  There's only a few items left on the JCPenney registry though - for the most part really cheap stuff, or really expensive stuff, so I wonder what's going to happen.  I thought about trying to find more to register for there, but there's not really anything else I want there.  Oh well.  I'm not going to worry about it.  I think it's great that I'm getting any gifts at all.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got the bill from when Ben went to the emergency room last September again yesterday.  We've been disputing the bill with the hospital for months - and now apparently, it doesn't matter what we say, we have to pay or they'll send the account to collections.  Somehow, that doesn't seem fair that they are basically just disregarding our perfectly legitimate dispute.  I hate insurance companies too.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-94347491?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94347491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94347491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94347491' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-94177753</id><published>2003-05-11T22:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-11T22:21:17.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Apparently, I am not a very good person:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to &lt;i&gt;the Fifth Level of Hell!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;Here is how you matched up against all the levels:&lt;br&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="1" style="margin: 5px; background-color: #000000; border: none; font: 10pt arial, verdana, 'sans serif';"&gt;&lt;tr style="font: bold 12pt arial, verdana, 'sans serif'; text-align: center; color: #ffffff; background-color: #333333;"&gt;&lt;th&gt;&lt;b&gt;Level&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/th&gt;&lt;th&gt;&lt;b&gt;Score&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/th&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #220033; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#0" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Purgatory&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Repenting Believers)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #3344bb; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very Low&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #110022; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#1" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 1 - Limbo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Virtuous Non-Believers)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #3344bb; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very Low&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #220011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#2" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Lustful)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #c40033; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #330011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#3" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Gluttonous)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #aa33aa; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Moderate&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #440011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#4" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 4&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Prodigal and Avaricious)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #ff1133; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #550011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#5" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 5&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Wrathful and Gloomy)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #c40033; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Very High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #660011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#6" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 6 - The City of Dis&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Heretics)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #4466dd; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Low&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #770011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#7" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 7&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Violent)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #ff1133; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #880011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#8" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 8- the Malebolge&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #ff1133; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="background-color: #990011; color: #eeeeee;"&gt;&lt;td style="padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-information.html#9" style="color: #ff3344; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;Level 9 - Cocytus&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; (Treacherous)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="color: #ff1133; background-color: #333333; padding: 4px;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;High&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Take the &lt;a href="http://www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-test.mv"&gt;Dante's Inferno Hell Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually rather surprised at the results.  While I don't think I want to be any of those things, I certainly wouldn't have labeled myself "wrathful and gloomy"... and the fifth level of hell is really not all that pleasant sounding.  Pray for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-94177753?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94177753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94177753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94177753' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-94155534</id><published>2003-05-11T13:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-11T13:17:40.093-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I got to celebrate my birthday this weekend.  Me and Ben went to Stool Pigeons Friday night.  Saturday, my parents took us to Villa Europa.  I got a Slow Gin Fizz, which is actually quite delicious.  Lots of different flavors all mixed together.  And the food is wonderful there.  Then, we went to see a really late showing of &lt;i&gt;X2&lt;/i&gt;.  It was nice having Ben home.  It sucks that it was only for two days!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School starts back again on Wednesday.  I didn't really get much of a break.  And Tuesday, I have to be at work at like 8, instead of 11 - which is so not cool.  However, I suppose having nothing to do Monday will be nice.  I think I'm going to hit the mall, and then lay around the apartment reading a book and eating ice cream.  And cook up a huge pot of spaghetti or something else really good for dinner.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a bridal shower next Thursday.  I'm starting to really look forward to that.  Greedy, selfish Stacy keeps thinking - Presents!  And all for me!  Mwahahaha....!  :-P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben thinks they might not even finish at this job site in Baxley this week.  He might have to go back AGAIN next week.  I'm not liking this aspect of his new job - although we both agree that the extra money will be nice.  Like, yesterday, we went and picked out our wedding bands (while we still had some birthday money to be able to pay for them!).  Apparently, his plain gold band costs three times what my plain gold band does.  What's up with that?? Yes, it's slightly bigger, but come on!  Not three times bigger!!  Ah well.  Not much I can do about it - I mean, I definitely want him to wear a wedding band so all the ladies (yeah, like he ever sees ladies at work!) know he's taken.  He's going to be mine!  All mine!  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-94155534?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94155534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94155534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94155534' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-94057754</id><published>2003-05-09T11:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-09T11:55:21.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Got my grades for the semester.  B in Anatomy and Physiology II, and an A in everything else... which is good!  My Real Estate grade was borderline A/B going into the final, so it's nice to know I pulled off an A.  So I got a 3.69 GPA for the semester and my overall went from a 3.16 to 3.27.  Yay!  I'm getting smarter!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My visit with Casey was fun.  We played lots of old board games.  She totally won at Trivial Pursuit, but I beat her at Life, Scrabble, and Risk.  Which was only fitting, since it was my birthday.  And her parents house down there rocks!  It's gigantic and pretty - and it has a hot tub!  And very soft leather chairs and couches.  I want a house like that one day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben finally comes home today.  I'm definitely looking forward to seeing him again.  Unfortunately, he has to go back next week, for the whole week again most likely - which does not make me happy at all.  Except that he gets paid more than usual for doing the job down there.  And I suppose we do need the money.  But i miss him when he's gone.  It gets lonely at the apartment.  The cats aren't very good conversationalists.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-94057754?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94057754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/94057754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#94057754' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93946459</id><published>2003-05-07T16:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-07T16:13:50.673-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy Birthday to me!&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday to me!&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday to me-EE&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday to me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm 21!  I'm 21!  Woohoo!!!  And I'm in Valdosta!  And Casey made me a cake!  With three layers!  Just wanted to say YEA!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93946459?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93946459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93946459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#93946459' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93806957</id><published>2003-05-05T12:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-05T12:15:50.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Had my sociology of medicine final this morning... get this:  The teacher gave us a set of questions the final would be taken from a month ago.  The questions included the page number where we could find the answer in the book.  Then, he decides the final will be open notebook.  If everyone does not get an A, it will just be pathetic.  A lot of people wrote down the answer to all 80 questions - which I think is hilarious, because we only had to answer 4 for the final.  I wrote down the answers to about thirty, three of which were on the final.  But, then again, I only had to get a 62 to keep my A.  So I'm not all that concerned.  :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only one to go... woohoo!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93806957?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93806957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93806957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#93806957' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93775596</id><published>2003-05-04T22:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-04T22:28:15.383-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, I'm moving my blog, as Casey's server seems to have crapped out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm alone.  I hate being alone when it's dark.  I guess I'm scared of the boogey man.  Luckily, I'm really really tired tonight, so I shouldn't have any trouble falling asleep.  And Ben should be home Thursday.  That seems like a long time, but I'm sure it won't be all that bad.  As long as he remembers to call me at night and say hi!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two more finals to go.  Better head on to bed, so I don't sleep through the one tomorrow morning...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93775596?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93775596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93775596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#93775596' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93606399</id><published>2003-05-01T13:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-05-01T14:01:32.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No classes today, no finals today... ah, life is good.  Got to sleep in until 11:30, and all I really need to do today is review some anatomy notes for my final tomorrow.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, mom is taking me mattress shopping.  Our parents are getting us a queen sized mattress set as a wedding gift - and I'm really excited about it.  The mattress we have now is so hard.  I want a soft one.  And since Ben has no desire to help pick one out, he gets no say in the final choice (hee hee, 'cause I want a soft one, and he wants a firm one).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Ben's not going to North Carolina after all.  That job got cancelled.  Instead, he gets to go to some little itty bitty town in south Georgia from Sunday to Thursday.  At least he won't be gone quite as long, but he'll still be gone on our birthday.  He seems to really like his new job though, so I'm happy for him.  Just hope he gets a raise soon.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone else should be finishing up school for the semester, and hopefully some of my friends will be coming home for the summer.  Yay!!  If you're one of those people, expect a call in the next week or so!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93606399?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93606399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93606399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_05_01_archive.html#93606399' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93550933</id><published>2003-04-30T16:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-30T19:04:06.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've completed and turned in all of my papers and projects for the semester.  Also, today was the last day of classes.  YAY!!  Just finals left to go.  Two friday (one of those being optional), one Monday, and one Tuesday.  And, since they've already got the fall course listings out, I've been trying to put together a fall schedule.  Apparently, this is just not going to work.  I'm planning on taking 3 lab classes, and that's it.  That gives me the bare minimum of 12 hours.  Unfortunately, it is virtually impossible to schedule three lab classes because inevitably, the times conflict.  Grrrr.  I wanted to take Zoology and Ecology (because I thought the course material may overlap some, and thus make the class slightly easier) and Chem II, because I took Chem I so long ago I don't really want to put it off any longer.  But I can't take those three.  So then I thought, well, Botany fits my schedule.  So I can take Chem II, Zoology, and Botany, or Zoology, Ecology, and Botany.  I wonder if it would be hard to have one classes focusing on plants and another on animals.  Hmmm.  I don't particularly want to take Chem II at all, but if I don't take it in the Fall, I'll just take it next Spring.  Do you think I should take Ecology or Chem II this fall?  Ahh, decisions decisions.  Oh well, I have until June to decide.  Maybe I'll from MCG in the meantime and I won't have to take any of those classes - wouldn't that be nice?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, I turn 21 in a week!  Woohoo!  Although I suppose I won't really celebrate until Saturday when Ben comes home - right after we go to our premarital counseling.  Somehow it seems to wrong to enjoy being 21 after discussing spirituality for a few hours, but, too bad!  :-P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93550933?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93550933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93550933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93550933' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93414642</id><published>2003-04-28T14:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-28T14:56:30.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So - finally heard from MCG ... and the words were not good.  I didn't get accepted, however, I am on the alternate list, which apparently, not every reject gets to be on.  That makes me a special reject.  Maybe someone won't want to / be able to be in the program afterall and I'll get their spot.  And if not, that's okay too.  I was super upset about it last night, but I feel MUCH better about it today.  There's always next year.  And school is easier than work anyway, so what's the hurry?  I'm not really sure what classes I'll take at ASU in the meantime, but I'm sure I'll find some.  I think I will start taking the classes required to get a biology degree at ASU - so lots and lots of lab classes in my future.  And chemistry too - I &lt;i&gt;hate&lt;/i&gt; chemistry!  Anyways, I got chinese food last night to celebrate the end of the whole MCG process - chicken and broccoli AND sweet and sour chicken.  And I still have left over pizza.  Yum!  So, life's not so bad today (with the exception of the anatomy test I bombed this morning, because I was too busy writing my psych paper to really study).  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93414642?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93414642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93414642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93414642' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93309087</id><published>2003-04-26T15:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-26T15:49:43.976-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm going to be alone on my 21st birthday!  Ben has to work out of town in North Carolina for a week (May 3 -10), so we'll both be alone.  That's so no fair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93309087?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93309087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93309087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93309087' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93192795</id><published>2003-04-24T14:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-28T14:51:18.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just this on Alicia's away message and thought I'd share - 'cause I like it.  :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up too late the night before. &lt;br /&gt;Want to stay in bed some more. &lt;br /&gt;Searching for a matching sock &lt;br /&gt;in time to make my eight o'clock. &lt;br /&gt;Sprinting all the way to class. &lt;br /&gt;Slowly running out of gas. &lt;br /&gt;Against all odds I make it in. &lt;br /&gt;Professor asks me where I've been. &lt;br /&gt;I try to think up some excuse. &lt;br /&gt;"It's chronic eight o'clock abuse!" &lt;br /&gt;Can't get breakfast off my mind. &lt;br /&gt;Now I'm half-a-page behind! &lt;br /&gt;Man, this lecture's really boring. &lt;br /&gt;Is it me that I hear snoring? &lt;br /&gt;No it's just the ocean breeze. &lt;br /&gt;I'm floating on a piece of cheese &lt;br /&gt;sailing off to la-la land, &lt;br /&gt;while jamming to a reggae band. &lt;br /&gt;As I lay me down to rest, &lt;br /&gt;please let me dream I pass my test. &lt;br /&gt;And if I don't for goodness sake,&lt;br /&gt;please let me sleep till summer break!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You like it too?  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93192795?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93192795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93192795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93192795' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-93148600</id><published>2003-04-23T21:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-23T21:38:20.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>School's almost over for the semester, yet I think half of the work still remains.  I did my ab. psych presentation, and I've started that paper.  I'm half done with the real estate project.  Still haven't touched the soc. of med. paper.  I'm going to order my wedding dress tomorrow, after I take my anatomy lab exam.  I should hear from MCG Thursday or Friday.  Friday Ben doesn't go to work until 3, and will probably work until midnight (grrrrr!).  Monday is the anatomy test.  Tuesday the real estate project is due.  Wednesday the other two papers are.  Then finals in all the classes.  Yeah.  This is not fun.  Do I really care about arytenoid or corniculate cartilage in the trachea?  Or people with "environmental illness"? - personally I think it's all a bunch of bs.  Or even current research on schizophrenia?  Yeah.  At least it's almost over...  I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I want to sleep...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-93148600?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93148600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/93148600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#93148600' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92937446</id><published>2003-04-20T13:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-20T13:17:36.700-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm feeling very blah.  Can blah be an emotion?  I should be doing schoolwork - but it's the weekend, and I don't want to do it.  But if I don't do it now, I'll just have more to do later; that totally satisfies my immediate mood, but I'll be mad at myself later.  Still, I probably won't do much.  Random junk is laying everywhere, only there's not a good place to put any of it away, so it's just kind of staying where it was last thrown.  Even the cats seem lazier than usual this morning - is it possible for cats to be lazier??  What do cats do that's productive anyway?  Purr?  I lost a few pounds while I had my sinus infection the last two weeks.  I can tell - my stomach is a bit flatter.  So  now that I think I look slightly better than normal, why is it that all I want to do is eat Oreos?  I must be self-defeating in general.  I think I maybe need a vacation.  A real vacation - not just a break from work/school/whatever.  I need to go somewhere &lt;i&gt;else&lt;/i&gt; and be lazy.  Except, that I'm too lazy to go anywhere.  I am so pathetic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92937446?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92937446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92937446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92937446' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92814930</id><published>2003-04-17T22:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-28T14:50:20.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Why is it those we love the most also anger us the most?  I mean, really, what's up with that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92814930?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92814930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92814930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92814930' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92794913</id><published>2003-04-17T15:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-17T15:29:27.996-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Things I need to do in the next two weeks:&lt;br /&gt;1. A Beautiful Mind presentation tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;2. Abnormal Psych paper - looked up my research articles, still need to read them and write the paper.&lt;br /&gt;3. Real Estate project - done bits and pieces.&lt;br /&gt;4. Bodies in Protest paper - haven't even thought about it yet.  Have to read the book first.&lt;br /&gt;5. Anatomy lab exam - Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;6. Anatomy test - Monday.&lt;br /&gt;7. 4 finals. (read 3 more psych chapters, read Bodies in Protest book, etc)&lt;br /&gt;8. Print, assemble, address, and mail out wedding invites - hopefully within the next 2 weeks.&lt;br /&gt;9. Book our honeymoon - do we need passports?!  Where do I look to find out?&lt;br /&gt;10. Find out about MCG and change school plans accordingly.&lt;br /&gt;11. Buy a wedding dress.&lt;br /&gt;12. Exercise - need to stop finding excuses not too - although see above for good ones!  :-P&lt;br /&gt;13. Start fake baking - it's so fun to roast like a rotissere (sp?) chicken.&lt;br /&gt;14. Look for, decide on, and buy wedding bands.&lt;br /&gt;15. Take care of car insurance and new tags for Ben's truck and bike.&lt;br /&gt;... and of course, all the other things that need taken care of in the meantime.  Laundry, cleaning, errands, cooking dinner, work, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, so, my next two weeks - I will be cranky and busy.  Joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92794913?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92794913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92794913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92794913' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92794486</id><published>2003-04-17T15:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-17T15:21:02.280-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>...so I called MCG, and apparently it will be AT LEAST another week before they mail the acceptance / rejection letters.  GRRRRRR!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was looking at my Buddy List the other day and thinking that, as many buddies as I have listed, we don't talk much.  It's weird.  I think some of them, I just don't have much in common with anymore - other than our past friendship.  Some, I think I would actually have a lot in common with and could be good friends with - if we only bothered to talk more.  Like, Geoff.  I think we could have some great conversations.  (Do you even read this Geoff?  Probably not..., but if you do, IM me).  And I think I will always have a strange intuitiveness about Andy, even when we don't talk for ages - I guess that's what happens when you have the same school schedules for that many years.  Sam, I wish I knew more about his life up in PA.  He definitely seems to be having a good time, but he never seems to be around to talk about it.  I still talk to Casey all the time of course, although I think our lives are starting to take us in more and more diverging paths.  Not that that's a bad thing, by any means.  I think it just means we'll have to work harder to stay close.  And Hallie - I thought Hallie had just faded from my life for good, but she has reappeared.  I'm surprised actually (in a good way though!!) that we still get along, and understand each other as much as we do.  Me and Morgan were even getting to be friends, but we both have so much going on in our lives that we probably won't know each other well enough to really keep up with each other once she's in Ohio this fall.  Who else?  Tushar - I still read his away messages because they're usually funny, but I haven't talked to him in ages.  Ruth either.  I guess she's still down in Valdosta somewhere - if someone has her screenname, pass it on to me, will ya?  David doesn't really talk to me anymore, although we may end up at the same school in the fall, so that may change I suppose.  Every once in awhile I hear from Miles.  I've pretty much lost touch all together with Emily - although I doubt that surprises anybody.  My brother has these great, short, funny conversations with me pretty often.  And he leaves the most bizzare away messages and profiles.  Sometimes, I wonder if I know him at all, and yet, at the same time, I know I know him so much better than Mom and Dad do...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't suppose any of that really had much of a point - other than, if you were listed, I miss talking to you!  I (and they, since I suppose it's not all MY fault) need to work harder to maintain our friendships.  So - if you're out there - talk to me more often!  I miss you!  ( This does not apply to Casey - as she does a wonderful job of it as it is.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92794486?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92794486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92794486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92794486' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92679196</id><published>2003-04-15T19:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-15T19:12:25.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well, I believe good times are slowly returning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben has a job!  Granted, it doesn't pay as well as either of us would like, but still, it's a job!  Woohoo!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday afternoon, mom came by and we went wedding dress shopping (for the third time) for four hours.  The last place we went to had even already locked their doors for the night, but we knocked and promised to be quick so they let us in.  I guess after putting so much time and effort into finding a dress, I lost most of the excitement I had about picking one.  I tried on so many that they all started to look and feel the same - like a white dress I'll spend a lot of money on to wear for a few hours and never again afterwards.  The magic was gone.  But - I found one that's comfy enough, looks ok, but most importantly, my mom likes it.  And later this week, once she's seen it, hopefully Ben's mom will like it, and we can buy the silly thing and be done with it already.  I'm actually impressed with myself about it only because, in a wedding dress, you usually have to buy a size or two bigger (like, an 8 or a 10, instead of my usual 6 -- why why why would wedding dress designers make you feel fatter on that riduculously important day in your life???!!), but the 6 actually fit me.  Made me feel thin - which, for some absurd reason in this society, means something good.  Wanna see the final &lt;a href="http://www1.davidsbridal.com/catalog_search.jsp?searchon=style&amp;searchfor=2027"&gt;choice&lt;/a&gt;?  If you don't like it, don't say anything, because I am NOT shopping for another one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if only a nice big fat envelope from MCG would arrive...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92679196?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92679196'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92679196'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92679196' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92543897</id><published>2003-04-13T17:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-13T17:58:44.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sunday.  The last day of Spring Break.  I'm not ready to go back to school.  I don't think I get a choice though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trip to Beaufort was rather successful.  Progress was made, but for some reason, we only seem to be able to make progress in spurts.  The moms decided they hated the new wedding outfit I had picked out, so we went shopping for a few hours.  They found one they liked, but I hated it.  So right now, I have no clue what I'm going to end up wearing.  I'm starting to wonder why me and Ben didn't just elope to escape all this planning stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also made some progress on my projects - weeks before they are due.  I'm highly proud of myself for getting &lt;i&gt;anything&lt;/i&gt; done this early.  Hopefully, I'll keep up a slow but steady pace.  I do have a presentation on Wednesday, but it shouldn't be too bad.  I have to give a synopsis of A Beautiful Mind - what an excellent movie!  So I have so show some DVD clips and talk about John Nash's character in the movie in regards to his schizophrenia.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben still doesn't have a job.  I think we're both getting frustrated and depressed with the whole thing.  I feel bad because at points, I feel like he doesn't have a job because he must not be trying hard enough - and I get really short tempered about it.  But I know that's not true - he &lt;i&gt;has&lt;/i&gt; been trying very hard to get a job; he just hasn't been successful.  And it's all the more frustrating because there's not a heck of a lot I can do to help.  Of course the money situation is getting hard.  Since he's not working, he's spending more time at the apartment, and so he wants to get out of the apartment to keep from going stir crazy.  But going out and doing things (movies, dinner, whatever) costs money and we're trying our best not to spend money.  So that's just adding to the situation.  Maybe this week, he'll find something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still no word from MCG.  They probably had Spring Break this week too, which is why I probably didn't hear anything.  However, if I get accepted, I have to take a humanities class this summer, and registration is Monday.  Not a big deal, I'll register for the class *just in case*.  But, what is a big deal, is I have to pay for the class by Friday.  And I certainly don't have extra money to spend on a class if I don't &lt;i&gt;need&lt;/i&gt; to take it.  So I BETTER hear something - one way or the other - this week, or I'm just going to go nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically, there's lots of extra tension at the apartment that has nothing to do with me and Ben as a couple, so we keep trying to go out of our way to be nice to each other - I guess to prove that the stress *isn't* affecting us.  I just hope we both get some good news this week.  We need some.  Hey, Good News, if you're listening, it's our turn already!!  Over here!!!  :::waves arms frantically at the sky - which is apparently where Good News stays:::&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92543897?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92543897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92543897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92543897' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92302353</id><published>2003-04-09T13:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-09T13:27:49.996-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Apparently fate decided that for my one week free from the hell that is school, I should be sick.  So I am.  And I'm not even in the getting-better phase of sickness.  I'm in the it's-still-going-to-get-worse phase.  Why why why??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the wedding budget has gotten a bit too high, which means costs had to be cut.  So I'm going to sell my expensive wedding dress and settle for something much much cheaper.  This really hasn't been as hard to accept as I thought it might be - in fact, it was even my suggestion.  I mean, it's hard to justify spending oodles on a wedding dress that I'm only going to be wearing for a few hours.  Even if the pictures do last forever.  Besides, I'll still look pretty - or at least, all my guests had BETTER tell me I look pretty!  :-) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm heading down to Beaufort Thursday and Friday to finish up the bulk of the wedding planning.  Picking up the invitations, going around to visit a few more photographers (man, they're expensive!), and taking my dog down to see if she has learned how to behave herself.  All of course, while being sick.  Maybe the salty air will help me breathe better...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92302353?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92302353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92302353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92302353' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92175393</id><published>2003-04-07T17:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-04-07T17:36:39.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Everyday, as soon as I think the mail might have come, I run out to the mailbox (or drive out, like I did today, because it was raining rather hard), and check and see if there's a letter from MCG.  Accepted, rejected - I just want to KNOW one way or the other.  But no letter again today.  Stupid mailman.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92175393?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92175393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92175393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92175393' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-92048507</id><published>2003-04-05T12:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-05T12:58:13.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Random clips from the last few days:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday, at work, I was trying to be helpful by making the bank deposit while Dad was in a meeting.  However, it seems that I sent a check off to be deposited that was post-dated for Thursday (oops).  Well, apparently, the check was written by some old lady on a fixed income, and she ended up bouncing 7 checks - most of them for small amounts like $4.00.  So now she has like $200+ in bounced check fees - which she feels my Dad should pay for since he deposited the check to soon.  Dad contends that it's at least partially the bank's fault, since they are also supposed to check for (and not deposit!) post dated checks.  As of now, the woman is threatening to go to the newspapers with the story that the business is trying to rip off clueless senior citizens.  All this for trying to be helpful...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been trying to get through the book &lt;i&gt;Bellefleur&lt;/i&gt; by Joyce Carol Oates for ages.  It's rather difficult to read because I think one of her goals as an author while writing the book was to use the most complex sentence structure possible.  For example, the first sentence of the books is: "It was many years ago in that dark, chaotic, unfathomable pool of time before Germaine's birth (nearly twelve months before her birth), on a night in late September stirred by innumerable frenzied winds, like spirits contending with one another - now plaintively, now angrily, now with the subtle cellolike delicacy capable of making the flesh rise on one's arms and neck - a night so sulfurous, so restless, so swollen with inarticulate longing that Leah and Gideon Bellefleur in their enormous bed quarreled once again, brought to tears because their love was too ravenous to be contained by their mere mortal bodies; and their groping, careless, anguished words were like strips of raw silk rubbed violently together (for each was convinced that the other did not, could not, be equal to his love - Leah doubted that any man was capable of a love so profound it could lie silent, like a forest pond; Gideon doubted that any woman was capable of comprehending the nature of a man's passion, which might tear through him, rendering him broken and exhausted, as vulnerable as a small child): it was on this tumultuous rainlashed night that Mahalaleel came to Bellefleur Manor on the western shore of the great Lake Noir, where he was to stay for nearly five years."  Eventually, the reader discovers that Mahalaleel is a gigantic cat.  I actually rather like the book.  I just find that it takes forever to read - maybe I've gotten to use to reading romance novels? :-)  Anyways, this book is intriguing to me because no book has ever taken me months to read.  Ever. (Except like, a textbook, and those don't count.)  Although, I generally only read it when I take a bath - so maybe that's why.  I have a feeling Casey will really like this book, if she ever borrows it once I'm finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ben still hasn't gotten a job, but he's put in lots of applications, so hopefully he'll hear something soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the corner of Washington Rd. and Berckman's Rd., right by the Augusta National, these two guys have set up a tent selling "I Support Hootie" buttons for $5.00 apiece.  I think that's great.  Wish I had come up with the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know all the golf carts that end up in front of restaurants and stores in Augusta around Master's, especially along Washington Rd.?  Well, apparently, whoever was in charge of doing it this year took great pains to make sure the golf cart was color coded to it's host location.  Like, the two in front of Hooter's are orange.  The one in front of TGIFriday's is red.  Olive Garden has a green one in front of it.  It's just ridiculous!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dog, who adores company, often spends her days at the neighbor across the street from my parent's house - the Pope's.  Now, luckily, this family loves our dog (they have a dog and cat of their own too) to the extent that they buy her special dog treats - like, different treats than they even feed their own dog.  And apparently, Mrs. Pope sometimes puts the two dogs in the back of her BMW and takes them for a ride.  No, not when she's running an errand of anything.  She goes out solely so the dogs can stick their heads out the window for awhile.  I found this highly amusing because Ben has been doing some work at my parent's house the past few days to earn some money and I asked him if Akira was happy to see him.  He said, "No, she wasn't there. But I did see her go past in the back of some black sedan."  My stupid, pampered dog.  She has such a great life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-92048507?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92048507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/92048507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#92048507' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-91811475</id><published>2003-04-01T21:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-04-01T21:16:59.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Yeah, so, not the best day.  Ben got fired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-91811475?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91811475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91811475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_04_01_archive.html#91811475' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-91723423</id><published>2003-03-31T13:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-31T13:53:28.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I should have comments now, right?  So, help me figure out if they work!  If you read this, leave a message!  Thanks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-91723423?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91723423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91723423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#91723423' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-91679426</id><published>2003-03-30T21:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-30T22:03:20.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I was talking to Casey just now.  She showed me this poem she wrote - but she's too *insert adjective of choice here* to put it in her own blog -  http://weblog.lyricalwaters.net .So, here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ungirlfriendable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not you, &lt;br /&gt;he says. &lt;br /&gt;It's me. It's funny, &lt;br /&gt;How that's always true. &lt;br /&gt;I've been told &lt;br /&gt;(quite often) &lt;br /&gt;That I'm wonderful, &lt;br /&gt;beautiful, &lt;br /&gt;magical, &lt;br /&gt;alluring and exciting &lt;br /&gt;and intriguing &lt;br /&gt;and intelligent &lt;br /&gt;the type of girl, &lt;br /&gt;you can take home to bed, &lt;br /&gt;take home to mom &lt;br /&gt;I'm interesting &lt;br /&gt;and fun &lt;br /&gt;Maybe even loveable. &lt;br /&gt;But I can hear it in goodbyes, &lt;br /&gt;I'll never be girlfriendable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rather like it.  It's quite brooding, yet uplifting.  Positive, and negative at the same time.  Poor Casey.  Bad, *insert name here*, bad!!  If you like it, send her an IM and tell her at ShyVioletGT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-91679426?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91679426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91679426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#91679426' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-91679064</id><published>2003-03-30T21:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-30T21:17:25.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My dad has come a long way this week, in my opinion.  He used to say he supported me and Ben, but the next day at work, he'd try to get all the guys to tell me how bad marraige is - which seemed the exact opposite of "support" to me.  But, we went out to Olive Garden on Thursday, and had a talk about it, and things have really, really seemed to have changed for the better since then.&lt;br /&gt;On Friday, I worked, and towards the end of the day, two of the guys were grouching about being married.  When they made some good-natured comment to me about "watching out once you're married", Dad didn't join in.  He actually made a point of telling Mickey that he fully supports my decision and that in 25 years, he hopes he's celebrating mine and Ben's 25th anniversary with us.  &lt;br /&gt;Then, tonight, was the biggest milestone to date.  Since I moved in with Ben more than two years ago, Dad has not once come to visit.  Ever.  In fact, he used to not call the apartment either.  He would have Mom dial the phone and get me on the line, and then she would hand the phone and he would talk to me.  Or he would call my cell phone even when he knew I was at the apartment.  Well, tonight, we (Ben, me, mom and dad) celebrated my mom's birthday by seeing The Pianist (great movie, but what a way to celebrate your birthday) and by going to Red Lobster (lobster, yum!).  I had bought mom and cake and told her to come by the apartment to pick it up, assuming Dad would just wait in the car like he usually does.  But! - he came in!  For almost 8 minutes or so.  He didn't want to see the place at all, but he did look at what he could see, and was even introduced to my cats before saying he was ready to go.  &lt;br /&gt;While that probably seems insignificant to most of you out there, it's a major milestone.  And I'm really, really happy because of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-91679064?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91679064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91679064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#91679064' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-91612296</id><published>2003-03-29T13:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-29T13:44:34.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had this crazy dream two nights ago I thought I would share.  I dreamt that as the wedding got closer, Dad became continually more suspicious of Ben.  So Dad hired a private investigator to do a thorough background check on Ben.  Dad called me when it was over and said, "Stacy, I've got good news and bad news.  The bad news, is Ben has been lying to you this whole time.  The good news is - I really really want you to marry him now.  He has a secret bank account he hasn't told you about with $3.7 million dollars!"  I was astounded - both by the lying and the money.  I immediately confronted Ben when I got off the phone with Dad and said, "Honey, is there something you want to tell me?"  And he said, "No.  Is there something you want me to tell you?"  I questioned him about the secret bank account and he confessed, saying, "I wanted to make sure you loved the real me, and not just my money!"  I immediately got highly pissed off, asking him if he had so much money, why were we in debt and why were we living in an apartment instead of buying a house somewhere.  He said, "I like being in debt.  Something about being beholden to people really appeals to me."  I told him he was an idiot, and then I woke up.  And after I woke up, I really did go ask him if he had any stashes of money hiding somewhere, and unfortunately, my dream did not come true.  We are not millionaires after all.  I also told him that if I was only with him for his money, I would've left a long time ago!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-91612296?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91612296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91612296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#91612296' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-91377457</id><published>2003-03-25T19:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-25T19:14:06.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm having an educational dilmenna.  See, I'm taking four classes, but I really only *need* my anatomy class.  The other 3 are so that I'm still a full time student and keep my scholarships.  Well, in all three of my pointless classes, I have projects coming up - mostly papers.  I have absolutely no desire to spend large quantities of time doing projects for classes I don't need (&lt;--- the dilemma).  I've actually even figured out my grades if I don't do them - C's.  So now I'm trying to decide if a C is so bad.  Granted, if I do the projects, I'll probably get 2 A's and a B, or I could not do the projects and get 3 C's.  But right now, 3 C's just don't sound all that bad.  I, for some reason, feel absurdly guilty for even considering not doing the projects though (just goes to show what a nerd I am).  So, to do or not to do?  That is the question...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-91377457?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91377457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91377457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#91377457' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-91251067</id><published>2003-03-23T20:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-23T20:39:02.950-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Everyone, everwhere, at some point, should go see a show by Cirque du Soleil.  My whole family and Ben's whole family drove to Atlanta today to see Varekai.  Excellent, superb show.  It's the third Cirque I've been to.  Someday, I will see them all.  &lt;br /&gt;Also, Ben is the best.  I pinched that stupid nerve in my back again really bad, and he has taken such good care of me.  He even put on my shoes and socks for me this morning - I'm not real sure what I'm going to do without him tomorrow morning!  Sigh.  I'm so in love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-91251067?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91251067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91251067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#91251067' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-91018969</id><published>2003-03-19T17:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-19T17:49:12.576-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Hallie came to see me today.  She's awesome!  We were best friends in high school, then drifted apart for awhile, but we seem to have found time for our friendship again, which is great.  We talked for almost 6 hours straight.  Can guys do that?  Seriously, are guys capable of talking for that long?  Without the TV on in the background for inspiration?  I needed some girl bonding time.  It is really amazing how you can not see someone for a really really long time, then a couple of hours later, it's like you've always been close and that time apart was never there.  We talked about siblings, and parents, and how school sucks, and guys, and friends, and food, and my wedding, and - well, I'm not going to tell you some of the stuff we talked about.  (Hallie, I completely blame you in a bomb my test on Friday - I was supposed to be studying today!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if any of my other friends I haven't talked to in awhile are reading this, call me or IM me or something so we can catch up too!  You know who you are...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the cupcakes are gone now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-91018969?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91018969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/91018969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#91018969' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-90887641</id><published>2003-03-17T19:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-17T19:32:13.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today was actually pretty good - surprisingly so.  It rained today, so Ben was home when I got home from class.  Since I didn't see him all weekend, I begged him for some attention, and we ended up spending most of the day out doing stuff.  First, we went around to a bunch of different motorcycle shops, because he's convinced if I have my own motorcycle, I will love riding as much as he does.  And, since I know nothing really about bikes, and my opinion of them is based solely on what they look like (meaning I can like a bike in black, but hate the same bike in yellow!), I kept picking bikes that Ben decreed "completely inappropriate" for me.  But at least he cares enough to not let me pick a bike I'd kill myself on.  I did eventually find one I liked though that Ben said would be "acceptable".  A Buell Lightning.  In black - not yellow.  And of course, it's only $9995.00.  Yeah.  Bet that's waiting under the Christmas tree for me.  Then we went to Atlanta Bread Company and had a surprisingly good lunch.  Ben got this really good chicken cordon bleu sandwich on some funky kind of bread that was just delicious.  After our superlate lunch, we went and saw the movie Bringing Down the House.  It may be a stupid movie, but it is incredibly hilarious!  I have not laughed that much at a movie in a long, long time.  So, I guess, we kind of pretended Monday was Sunday and had some fun, which just made Monday so much more bearable.  Especially since I didn't sleep well last night and was pretty cranky today.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, those cupcakes I made yesterday?  Yeah, we've already managed to eat 12 of them between the two of us.  We're pigs.  Oink, oink.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-90887641?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90887641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90887641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#90887641' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-90825391</id><published>2003-03-16T19:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-16T19:28:59.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today is good afterall - I made yummy cupcakes!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-90825391?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90825391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90825391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#90825391' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-90809496</id><published>2003-03-16T12:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-16T12:29:37.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Do you ever just get the feeling it's NOT going to be a good day?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-90809496?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90809496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90809496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#90809496' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-90789226</id><published>2003-03-15T23:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-15T23:06:57.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ben's in Savannah this weekend for a rugby tournament and I stayed home.  And after this day, which I swear has crept by unbelievably slowly, it has dawned on me that this is the first time I've ever stayed alone here.  Ben's stayed alone here plenty of times, while I was at Beaufort or wherever, but I've never been the only one here at night.  It feels very strange.  Like something vital is missing.  And he is missing, and I wish he was here now.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-90789226?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90789226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90789226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#90789226' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-90661536</id><published>2003-03-13T14:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-13T14:16:56.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've decided my life needs some direction.  Right now I feel like I'm wandering aimlessly on the road called Education, with a few rest stops along the way to earn some money for food.  So, I need some goals.  I need concrete goals that are written down, so I can't (1) pretend they don't exist and (2) quit trying to reach them.  Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Short term goals:&lt;br /&gt;1. B in Anatomy and Physiology II&lt;br /&gt;2. Start exercising regularly (3+ times / week) by the END OF THE MONTH!&lt;br /&gt;3. Find my kitchen table - I know it's under there somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;4. Attempt to also find the bathroom counter and the top of my dresser.  I've seen them periodically, and I miss them.&lt;br /&gt;5. Finish the crosstitch I started at Christmas. &lt;br /&gt;6. Get an acceptance letter to MCG in three weeks - actually, I suppose this one is out of my hands, as I've done all I can at this point.  So, &lt;br /&gt;6a. If a rejection letter is received, come up with a (good) career backup plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mid range goals:&lt;br /&gt;7. Finish planning my wedding without letting it take over my life.&lt;br /&gt;8. Go on a trip with just Casey.  Somewhere awesome and memorable.&lt;br /&gt;9. Plan my honeymoon without going broke.&lt;br /&gt;10. Discover how Dad really feels about me and Ben getting married - is he really happy?  upset?  somewhere in between?&lt;br /&gt;11. By the end of August, deal with everything that has to change due to marraige - health ins., auto ins., joint bank accounts, new passport, new driver's license, new SS card, letting the school know my new name -- damn, why don't guys have to deal with all that???&lt;br /&gt;12. Get married - this being perhaps the most important goal right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Longer range goals:&lt;br /&gt;13. Get a degree - finally.&lt;br /&gt;14. Decide on career path - work?  If so, where?  Grad school?  For what?  Move to a new city?  &lt;br /&gt;15. Buy a house.&lt;br /&gt;16. Get some dogs - I'm a dog person, I need dogs in my life that will run to the door when I get home.  My cats technically do that now - but cats are just so snobby and aloof sometimes.  I need a dog that will ALWAYS want affection and attention.  And that will chew up expensive things I own, causing me no small amount of grief.  Ah, dogs, gotta love 'em.&lt;br /&gt;17. Get a job - eventually.  After all, school is so much easier, and there's no real hurry is there?  :-P&lt;br /&gt;18. Maintain all my important friendships.  Yes, we're all getting older, and school, work, and life gets in the way a lot - but we need each other and we should remember to work at our friendships.&lt;br /&gt;19. Visit Australia.  And New Zealand.&lt;br /&gt;20. Never, ever, get divorced.  Marraige is forever - or at least, until one of us dies.  Yeah, and I'm pretty damn sure Ben will be the first to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, 20 goals, that's plenty for now.  Now, for today's goals: abnormal psych chapter on schizophrenia, 2 more loads of laundry, unload the dishwasher, eat lunch in there somewhere, cook dinner, attend class tonight (no more skipping class!), and call Dad about a trip with Casey.  Oooh, and maybe a bubble bath.  If I get around to it.  Then again, it's Thursday, which means ER comes on tonight.  Ok, so a bubble bath if ER is a rerun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-90661536?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90661536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90661536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#90661536' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5158265.post-90619634</id><published>2003-03-12T19:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-03-12T20:10:49.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Isn't this sweet?  Casey's letting my rant and rave about my life on her website - just 'cause she loves me.  Awwww.  &lt;br /&gt;Well, I had my interview for MCG today.  I was there for four freaking hours!! And the questions weren't even all that intelligent.  Literally, the first question they asked me was, "Are you aware Nuclear Medicine involves radiation?"... um, duh!  That thought-provoker was followed up by, "Does that concern you?".  Now, if that concerned me, would I really be applying for the program?  I mean, come on!&lt;br /&gt;Either way, it's over now and everything is out of my control, which is nice I suppose.  So, I'm taking Ben and we're going to go eat an expensive Japanese dinner we really can't afford to celebrate.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5158265-90619634?l=stacyslife.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90619634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5158265/posts/default/90619634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stacyslife.blogspot.com/2003_03_01_archive.html#90619634' title=''/><author><name>Stacy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16687818936356978046</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
