<?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-415646880483869404</id><updated>2011-10-11T16:45:34.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Brannan Blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>63</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8558883124476653999</id><published>2011-10-11T16:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T16:45:34.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/10/thoughts.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/10/thoughts.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8558883124476653999?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8558883124476653999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8558883124476653999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/10/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-6466147895455745004</id><published>2011-08-23T17:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-23T17:01:58.836-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Dog and His Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/08/dog-and-his-boy.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/08/dog-and-his-boy.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-6466147895455745004?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6466147895455745004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6466147895455745004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/08/dog-and-his-boy.html' title='A Dog and His Boy'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-7271030839066601253</id><published>2011-08-16T09:23:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T09:23:51.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Blessing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/08/baby-blessing.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/08/baby-blessing.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-7271030839066601253?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7271030839066601253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7271030839066601253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/08/baby-blessing.html' title='Baby Blessing'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2579199133073606995</id><published>2011-08-09T16:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T16:53:12.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>James' Birth Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/08/james-birth-story.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/08/james-birth-story.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2579199133073606995?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2579199133073606995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2579199133073606995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/08/james-birth-story.html' title='James&apos; Birth Story'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2372756518192682470</id><published>2011-08-04T17:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-04T17:19:43.251-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Announcing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/08/announcing.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/08/announcing.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2372756518192682470?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2372756518192682470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2372756518192682470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/08/announcing.html' title='Announcing'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2991426469222347804</id><published>2011-07-01T14:23:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T14:23:13.339-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Nursery!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/07/nursery.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/07/nursery.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2991426469222347804?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2991426469222347804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2991426469222347804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/07/nursery.html' title='The Nursery!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-6617981787294206882</id><published>2011-06-22T08:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T08:39:08.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Ready...Emotionally.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/06/getting-readyemotionally.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/06/getting-readyemotionally.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-6617981787294206882?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6617981787294206882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6617981787294206882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/06/getting-readyemotionally.html' title='Getting Ready...Emotionally.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-5627532103216277132</id><published>2011-06-06T14:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-06T14:29:00.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Belly Shots!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/06/belly-shots.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/06/belly-shots.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-5627532103216277132?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5627532103216277132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5627532103216277132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/06/belly-shots.html' title='Belly Shots!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-6731836421619421146</id><published>2011-05-23T09:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T09:47:31.695-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/05/pregnancy-update.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/05/pregnancy-update.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-6731836421619421146?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6731836421619421146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6731836421619421146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/05/pregnancy-update.html' title='Pregnancy Update'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-1294045475502887080</id><published>2011-04-14T13:09:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T13:09:02.542-07:00</updated><title type='text'>One gup, please.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/04/one-gup-please.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/04/one-gup-please.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-1294045475502887080?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1294045475502887080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1294045475502887080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/04/one-gup-please.html' title='One gup, please.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-4590951241560486477</id><published>2011-03-31T18:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T18:37:34.463-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Belly Blues</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/belly-blues.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/belly-blues.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-4590951241560486477?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4590951241560486477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4590951241560486477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/03/belly-blues.html' title='Belly Blues'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-6858612092078081659</id><published>2011-03-15T10:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T10:41:35.186-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Greetings from "the far land of Spare Oom where eternal summer reigns."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/greetings-from-far-land-of-spare-oom.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/greetings-from-far-land-of-spare-oom.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-6858612092078081659?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6858612092078081659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6858612092078081659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/03/greetings-from-far-land-of-spare-oom.html' title='Greetings from &quot;the far land of Spare Oom where eternal summer reigns.&quot;'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-5544488809737984711</id><published>2011-03-14T15:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T15:27:46.679-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Registered.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/registered.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/registered.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-5544488809737984711?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5544488809737984711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5544488809737984711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/03/registered.html' title='Registered.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-3165262137795571977</id><published>2011-03-02T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T10:32:04.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's in a name?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/whats-in-name.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/whats-in-name.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-3165262137795571977?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3165262137795571977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3165262137795571977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/03/whats-in-name.html' title='What&apos;s in a name?'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8040520337100869298</id><published>2011-03-01T21:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T21:00:40.400-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/its.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/03/its.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8040520337100869298?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8040520337100869298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8040520337100869298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/03/its.html' title='It&apos;s a...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-5983138867108140541</id><published>2011-02-27T09:01:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T09:01:15.896-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh We're Half-Way There!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/02/oh-were-half-way-there.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/02/oh-were-half-way-there.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-5983138867108140541?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5983138867108140541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5983138867108140541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/02/oh-were-half-way-there.html' title='Oh We&apos;re Half-Way There!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-4845364660383965837</id><published>2011-02-24T19:22:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T19:22:28.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gender Confusion</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/02/gender-confusion.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/02/gender-confusion.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-4845364660383965837?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4845364660383965837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4845364660383965837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/02/gender-confusion.html' title='Gender Confusion'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-718361950305361087</id><published>2011-02-07T13:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T13:15:59.606-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The World is Ending.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/02/world-is-ending.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/02/world-is-ending.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-718361950305361087?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/718361950305361087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/718361950305361087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/02/world-is-ending.html' title='The World is Ending.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-4856223428645765803</id><published>2011-02-01T18:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-02-01T18:24:37.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thunder-Stealing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/02/thunder-stealing.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/02/thunder-stealing.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-4856223428645765803?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4856223428645765803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4856223428645765803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/02/thunder-stealing.html' title='Thunder-Stealing'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8834451553749576492</id><published>2011-01-21T11:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T11:51:48.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously So Sad</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/01/seriously-so-sad.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/01/seriously-so-sad.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8834451553749576492?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8834451553749576492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8834451553749576492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/01/seriously-so-sad.html' title='Seriously So Sad'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8665488489908318812</id><published>2011-01-04T16:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-04T16:24:32.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CRAVINGS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/01/cravings.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/01/cravings.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8665488489908318812?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8665488489908318812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8665488489908318812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/01/cravings.html' title='CRAVINGS'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-1521026750907403412</id><published>2011-01-02T10:32:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T10:33:18.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pregnancy, Thus Far</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/01/pregnancy-thus-far.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2011/01/pregnancy-thus-far.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-1521026750907403412?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1521026750907403412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1521026750907403412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2011/01/pregnancy-thus-far.html' title='Pregnancy, Thus Far'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2722314173914905739</id><published>2010-10-31T22:11:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T22:11:32.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Costumes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-costumes.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-costumes.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2722314173914905739?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2722314173914905739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2722314173914905739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-costumes.html' title='My Costumes'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-1855934177836587743</id><published>2010-10-31T21:38:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-31T21:38:43.081-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hal10ween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2010/10/hal10ween.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2010/10/hal10ween.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-1855934177836587743?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1855934177836587743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1855934177836587743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/10/hal10ween.html' title='hal10ween'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8030190746867014905</id><published>2010-09-28T19:54:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-28T19:54:42.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My White Whale</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-white-whale.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-white-whale.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8030190746867014905?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8030190746867014905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8030190746867014905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-white-whale.html' title='My White Whale'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-7694280635941075177</id><published>2010-09-18T15:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T15:55:09.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Dog, Zed.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-dog-zed.html"&gt;http://combininginterests.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-dog-zed.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-7694280635941075177?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7694280635941075177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7694280635941075177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-dog-zed.html' title='My Dog, Zed.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8415234973104167552</id><published>2010-09-18T12:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-18T12:53:50.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'>here's the plan:</title><content type='html'>So, a while back, I made a "private" blog.&amp;nbsp; (I haven't updated it a lot, per my usual M.O., but it's there none the less).&amp;nbsp; I had mentioned it on facebook, but just in case anyone hadn't seen that, you can still send me an email (jessie.brannan@gmail(dot)com) and I'll add you to the blog list so you can read it - it's quite the privilege.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K, now, does anyone else have the problem of not remembering to check when those private blogs update?&amp;nbsp; I mean, I have my little "blog buddies" list on the side of this blog, and when someone posts something new, their blog moves to the top of the list and then I know to check their blog.&amp;nbsp; But private blogs don't do that.&amp;nbsp; I'm sure everyone else knows a simpler way of keeping track of those things, but I don't.&amp;nbsp; Soooo, what I'm going to do is: keep this blog and post links to new posts (on the rare occasion that I make them) so that it will still show up on peoples' blog lists.&amp;nbsp; Does that make sense?&amp;nbsp; Oh well, don't expect much anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8415234973104167552?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8415234973104167552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8415234973104167552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/09/heres-plan.html' title='here&apos;s the plan:'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-57136599432127747</id><published>2010-06-05T18:11:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-05T18:34:49.440-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Talkie Talkie</title><content type='html'>Bon and I have an incredibly imaginative and chatty 5 year old neighbor girl.  Due to those characteristics, her parents encourage her to spend a lot of time outdoors.  She can be seen patrolling the sidewalks on her bike - talking to neighbors, nameless passers-by, and no one at all.  We see her most of the times we take Zed out potty.  It's exhausting.  But she's so hilarious!  Up until a few weeks ago, Bon and I didn't even know her name, so we lovingly referred to her as "Talkie Talkie".  Here are just a few gems from our conversations with her:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just gotten home from work and was walking up to the apartment.  From behind me, I heard her say "he's not there."  I knew she was talking about Bon, but to humor her, I turned around and said "who's not there?"  She paused for a moment and replied "your dad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(now, this anecdote had me a bit concerned for her, but the pure innocence was touching)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As I was going back upstairs, after a lengthy conversation during one of Zed's potty breaks, she said "when you see Bon, will you tell him to invite me up your your house the next time he sees me.  And invite me for a  sleepover."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She doesn't seem to have many neighborhood friends, but (in what I can only imagine to be an attempt to garner some interest from prospective playmates) she'll ride around on her bike, shouting "WHEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"  But it is the most angry, aggressive sounding "whee" I've ever heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her and I were chatting during one of Zed's potty breaks and her mom called her in for dinner.  A dialogue ensued wherein she tried to determine when we'd next be able to play.  As she was going inside, she looked back at me and said, "oh, it's cool, you have my number - just call me!" and placed her hand up to her ear like a phone.  She doesn't have a phone and I don't have her number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me to take Bon to the store and buy him a bicycle so they could play together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And our favorite:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's very apparent that Talkie Talkie has a crush on Bon.  Well, one day, we were both walking to our car and she was playing outside.  When we left the apartment, she had called out "Hi Bon!"  As we crossed to the far side of the parking lot, she shouted "Bye Bon!"  A moments pause... "I love you!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-57136599432127747?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/57136599432127747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/57136599432127747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/06/talkie-talkie.html' title='Talkie Talkie'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8304176134259781025</id><published>2010-05-22T16:03:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T16:40:17.117-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just...Stuff...</title><content type='html'>There's no real point to this post.  I've just had some thoughts repeatedly bouncing in my mind that I thought spitting them out into a post might relieve some of the pressure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Zed's puppy teeth are starting to fall out.  My little baby isn't a baby anymore!  :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Zed and I were playing last night - a good ol' game of fetch - and he let go of his toy as I gave it a big tug and my hand accidentally bounced back and punched him right in the mouth!  I felt SO bad!  Zed seemed pretty shocked and sad (he really laid on the guilt) and kept licking as if &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he&lt;/span&gt; was trying to apologize.  Then it seemed like he was licking a LOT, so Bon and I pried open his mouth and tow of his baby teeth were hanging there, all bloody!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I felt HORRIBLE!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What a terrible mother I was that I not only punched my baby in the mouth, but also knocked out two of his teeth!!&lt;/span&gt;  After a while, he swallowed one, but Bon had to do some doggie-dentistry on the other and pluck it out (it was so &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;tiny&lt;/span&gt;!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I got sick on Tuesday night.  Like, suuuuper sick.  I had my yearly bout of middle-of-the-night-vomitting and then took the morning off of work the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I would've taken the whole day off (I still felt awful at work) but I had taken a day off the previous week for Bon's graduation and am taking another day off next week, plus my boss was going on vacation the next day, so I needed to make sure we had everything ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Man, in elementary/middle/high school, that nausea would've been a Golden Ticket for a day off!  (heck, if I really milked it, I probably could've even gotten a second day off)  When did I change to the point that I was berating myself for even taking the morning off??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I heave heartburn right now.  Also one of the many perks of adulthood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  During my morning off, I watched the previous night's new episode of Glee.  I bawled during the "I Dreamed a Dream" duet.  I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LOVE&lt;/span&gt; Les Miserables.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The series finale of LOST is coming up on Sunday; Bon and I don't get tv, so we watch all our shows the next day on the internet.  This means we won't get to watch it till I get home from work on Monday night.  Which means I should pretty much just not go on the internet at all on Monday because there most certainly will be spoilers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  I have mixed feelings about the show ending - I'm glad it's winding down and there's (supposedly) going to be answers to all our questions, but I know so much will overlooked and unanswered and that really aggravates me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Zed is really cute.  I think Bon has grown weary of me calling "Bon!  Look how cute Zed is!" every 10 seconds.  But Zed is just so cute that it needs to witnessed at all times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, 10 seems like a good place to stop for now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8304176134259781025?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8304176134259781025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8304176134259781025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/05/juststuff.html' title='Just...Stuff...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-5472900516759715665</id><published>2010-05-15T08:59:00.008-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-15T10:07:54.865-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Husband, the Bachelor</title><content type='html'>Have I mentioned lately how excited I am for Bon's college graduation?  And how proud I am of him?  Yes? No?  Well, here's a post about it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Bon just graduated from ASU (he attended the Polytechnic campus) with a Bachelor's of Science in Electronics Engineering Technology with a focus in Electronic Systems.  *whew*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A brief overview: after he graduated high school in 2001, he did a year at Cal Poly Pamona (sadly, very few of those credits transferred to ASU); then he went on a two year mission to Kentucky for our church; when he returned, his family had moved to Minnesota, but before he had a chance to start school there, they all moved down to Arizona.  Once in Arizona, Bon started at ASU Polytechnic (fall of 2006); we got married during his Christmas break that year and the two of us have been plugging along for the past three years.  Up until this last semester, Bon worked 30+ hours a week at his job (full time during the summer) and juggled at least 14 credits on top of that.  This last semester; however, Bon quit his job and did a rigorous 21 credits to get everything all done this year.  And he did indeed get everything done!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would say that this last semester - nay, just this last month - has felt longer than the last three years combined!  The stress and anticipation has been intense!  It was easy for me to get excited (I had a countdown going since the first day of the semester) but Bon had to actually deal with all the work to get to this point, so he was feeling more of the stress aspect of it.  As short as the tunnel was, and as bright as the light at the end of it was, it was still one heck of a tunnel to go through...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Tuesday was Bon's LAST DAY of classes/tests/papers/presentations/finals!!!  The relief was palpable.  We celebrated by going to Red Lobster and seeing Iron Man 2 - we're wild and crazy, I know.  Bon's thoroughly enjoyed his past few days of absolute freedom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Friday (yesterday), was the actual graduation ceremony.  I took the day off work and we all went to downtown Tempe to the main ASU campus.  It was a beautiful, sunny day to compliment the mood!  When we were sitting in the auditorium, waiting for it to begin, Minndy and I spent some time congratulating each other and savoring a job well done.  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And now, on to the pictures!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7OzvbriDI/AAAAAAAAAjM/hBIP7aG4g2o/s1600/108_2402.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7OzvbriDI/AAAAAAAAAjM/hBIP7aG4g2o/s320/108_2402.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471537985602947122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bon all ready in his cap and gown!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7O0hzfcII/AAAAAAAAAjc/b9aBqJP9hAM/s1600/108_2406.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7O0hzfcII/AAAAAAAAAjc/b9aBqJP9hAM/s320/108_2406.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471537999124590722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bon and his family&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7O0NKygTI/AAAAAAAAAjU/vcAm1uvi7xQ/s1600/108_2405.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7O0NKygTI/AAAAAAAAAjU/vcAm1uvi7xQ/s320/108_2405.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471537993585164594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bon and his proud moma, Minndy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7TG707NyI/AAAAAAAAAkM/xcAUy9pfNWE/s1600/grad+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7TG707NyI/AAAAAAAAAkM/xcAUy9pfNWE/s320/grad+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471542713394083618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Processional. (I've pointed out Bon for everyone's convenience)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7O1d1XPJI/AAAAAAAAAjs/3W7SJmjLMcg/s1600/108_2421.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7O1d1XPJI/AAAAAAAAAjs/3W7SJmjLMcg/s320/108_2421.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471538015238569106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Having his name read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7PTXGizdI/AAAAAAAAAj0/cAfjNbQXrQ8/s1600/108_2422.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7PTXGizdI/AAAAAAAAAj0/cAfjNbQXrQ8/s320/108_2422.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471538528827657682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Receiving his diploma!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7PT4oX2HI/AAAAAAAAAj8/bOP-DFJhNrw/s1600/108_2423.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7PT4oX2HI/AAAAAAAAAj8/bOP-DFJhNrw/s320/108_2423.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471538537827915890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bon's first seconds as a grad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7PUUyk9tI/AAAAAAAAAkE/nObmAjXW38Q/s1600/grad+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7PUUyk9tI/AAAAAAAAAkE/nObmAjXW38Q/s320/grad+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471538545386911442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Bon with his wife and diploma!  I'm so proud of him!!!  I love you, Bono!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-5472900516759715665?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5472900516759715665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5472900516759715665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-husband-bachelor.html' title='My Husband, the Bachelor'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-7OzvbriDI/AAAAAAAAAjM/hBIP7aG4g2o/s72-c/108_2402.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-3336896389104901914</id><published>2010-05-09T18:48:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T10:32:47.664-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BATH TIME!</title><content type='html'>My dear old dog, Molly (who is now in Doggy Heaven) used to HATE baths.  She would get the shakes and go hide if we even said the word "bath"; so then we started spelling out "B-A-T-H" but she caught on to that too.  We eventually moved on to pig-latin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, Zed isn't so bad about it.  I mean, it's definitely not something he &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;enjoys&lt;/span&gt;, but he tolerates it well enough.  But, man, oh man - after it's over, he runs crazy around the house!  He just seems to be thinking "I'M ALIVE!!!  I SURVIVED!!!"  He's like Scrooge on Christmas morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, since he's been doing better with the baths, I thought I'd take the time to get a few pictures of him this time. First, I'll start with a pre-bath pic just to assure everyone (and myself) that he is actually a cute dog. (this picture was actually taken a few weeks ago right before he got his first haircut)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dq_Yp6uaI/AAAAAAAAAjE/T88IzR3o9fY/s1600/before+haircut.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 308px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dq_Yp6uaI/AAAAAAAAAjE/T88IzR3o9fY/s320/before+haircut.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469457909647325602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We start by wetting his body down and leaving his head dry.   It makes him look like a lion.  A very weird lion.  (we mostly do it in this order because it gives us a few minutes to get a good laugh in)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dqCV5xjlI/AAAAAAAAAi8/B9jkntBYUAk/s1600/108_2397.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dqCV5xjlI/AAAAAAAAAi8/B9jkntBYUAk/s320/108_2397.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469456860936506962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dpvUC2IzI/AAAAAAAAAi0/RXdfz0WXxZc/s1600/108_2399.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dpvUC2IzI/AAAAAAAAAi0/RXdfz0WXxZc/s320/108_2399.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469456534020170546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then, when his whole body is wet, the transformation to "stranger dog" is complete. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dpYMT3JsI/AAAAAAAAAis/PANQkkfyg7c/s1600/108_2400.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dpYMT3JsI/AAAAAAAAAis/PANQkkfyg7c/s320/108_2400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469456136807065282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;He's such a tiny dog under all that fluff!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-3336896389104901914?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3336896389104901914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3336896389104901914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/05/bath-time.html' title='BATH TIME!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dq_Yp6uaI/AAAAAAAAAjE/T88IzR3o9fY/s72-c/before+haircut.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2857439843781511756</id><published>2010-05-09T18:16:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-09T18:44:30.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll get you, my pretty!  And your little dog, too!</title><content type='html'>Yes, ANOTHER dog post!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Zed has many toys (granted he considers every shoe, scrap of paper, and bit of string as a toy for him) and is particularly rough on his Frog.  Now, Frog started out all bright and healthy with springy back legs.  But Zed felt an amputation was necessary for that cheeky toad.  Here's what Frog looks like today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dhGGXvkhI/AAAAAAAAAiM/W9PnZipkluk/s1600/108_2393.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dhGGXvkhI/AAAAAAAAAiM/W9PnZipkluk/s320/108_2393.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469447029882065426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(notice, he's missing a back leg)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, a few weeks ago, Zed went through a phase where he loved to flip his bed (a big blue cushion) over and over.  As soon as he'd flip it upside down, he'd start tugging at the corner again to flip it right-side up.  Well, one day he left it mid flip and this is what I found:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dhpJogEdI/AAAAAAAAAiU/LJUvO-3bKJY/s1600/108_2383.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dhpJogEdI/AAAAAAAAAiU/LJUvO-3bKJY/s320/108_2383.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469447632053080530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dh43MKK1I/AAAAAAAAAic/NHFqefDTB-A/s1600/108_2385.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dh43MKK1I/AAAAAAAAAic/NHFqefDTB-A/s320/108_2385.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469447901980273490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which reminded me of this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dksRX85mI/AAAAAAAAAik/zxFXgTCgsXQ/s1600/feetpoppingnw7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 252px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dksRX85mI/AAAAAAAAAik/zxFXgTCgsXQ/s320/feetpoppingnw7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469450984205641314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2857439843781511756?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2857439843781511756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2857439843781511756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/05/ill-get-you-my-pretty-and-your-little.html' title='I&apos;ll get you, my pretty!  And your little dog, too!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S-dhGGXvkhI/AAAAAAAAAiM/W9PnZipkluk/s72-c/108_2393.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-1179430880146169183</id><published>2010-03-21T10:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T11:15:49.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Things We've Learned About Zed</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He LOVES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Leaves.&lt;/span&gt;  Every single leaf is a new and exciting toy for him.  And the crunchier, the better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Rugs.&lt;/span&gt;  Tugging at their corners, scratching at them, pottying on them - he loves it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;His "guy".&lt;/span&gt;  It's one of those wooly, stuffed toys that's shaped like a gingerbread man.  Bon nicknamed it his "guy" before I could have any input.  I'm voting to change the name because he's taken to humping the "guy"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Attention.&lt;/span&gt;  And since he's so cute, he gets a lot of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He HATES&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Baths.&lt;/span&gt;  Between the freshly mowed grass turning him green and several messy "accidents", he's had quite a few.  It's pretty amazing how scrawny he is under all that fluff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Blowdryer. &lt;/span&gt; And after the baths, he needs his luxurious mane to be dried.  It's a pretty traumatic experience all around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Being ignored.&lt;/span&gt;  Even if the person (or bird) is across the parking lot, he will alternate between patiently sitting, alert with big, sad eyes, and bouncing and dancing around in his most enticing "come hither" way.  And he will not be deterred until he has their love and attention.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-1179430880146169183?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1179430880146169183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1179430880146169183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/03/things-weve-learned-about-zed.html' title='Things We&apos;ve Learned About Zed'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-3040592686541972081</id><published>2010-02-28T13:17:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-28T14:02:21.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Newest Addition to Our Family...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rSFxMfFII/AAAAAAAAAfs/ybqNVFsNj9w/s1600-h/108_2382.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rSFxMfFII/AAAAAAAAAfs/ybqNVFsNj9w/s320/108_2382.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443394096177550466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A PUPPY!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just bought him last night.  He is a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Havanese"&gt;Havanese&lt;/a&gt; breed and only  about 4 lbs right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've named him Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander  (Zed for short).  He's named after the wizard in the highly dorky show  we love, Legend of the Seeker.  He's all fun and playful when he's on  the ground but then will get mellow and cuddly as soon as he get's  picked up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love our new little man! These pictures don't do him  justice - he's absolutely adorable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rSFUp0VzI/AAAAAAAAAfk/WjMcFiVsmXc/s1600-h/zed.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rSFUp0VzI/AAAAAAAAAfk/WjMcFiVsmXc/s320/zed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443394088515950386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRx9WZSRI/AAAAAAAAAfc/Bg1XxIS7pKI/s1600-h/zed+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 287px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRx9WZSRI/AAAAAAAAAfc/Bg1XxIS7pKI/s320/zed+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443393755842955538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRxrbponI/AAAAAAAAAfU/67k7Ffi7Pps/s1600-h/108_2377.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRxrbponI/AAAAAAAAAfU/67k7Ffi7Pps/s320/108_2377.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443393751033160306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRxInuh4I/AAAAAAAAAfM/UeT1bJhSY5w/s1600-h/108_2376.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRxInuh4I/AAAAAAAAAfM/UeT1bJhSY5w/s320/108_2376.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443393741688571778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRwUDXGwI/AAAAAAAAAe8/5lRgK6GUCJc/s1600-h/108_2374.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRwUDXGwI/AAAAAAAAAe8/5lRgK6GUCJc/s320/108_2374.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443393727577398018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRw3UfEbI/AAAAAAAAAfE/IdSIAuowj7Q/s1600-h/108_2375.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rRw3UfEbI/AAAAAAAAAfE/IdSIAuowj7Q/s320/108_2375.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443393737044464050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(he's a blur as he chases after his toy)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-3040592686541972081?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3040592686541972081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3040592686541972081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2010/02/newest-addition-to-our-family.html' title='The Newest Addition to Our Family...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/S4rSFxMfFII/AAAAAAAAAfs/ybqNVFsNj9w/s72-c/108_2382.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2257270521082013444</id><published>2009-12-27T09:46:00.011-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-27T10:39:52.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I had fully intended to post this BEFORE Christmas...</title><content type='html'>But, of course, I am nothing if not lazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm making this post because I'm actually kinda pleased with my Christmas decorations this year; this was the 4th Christmas that Bon and I have been married (for the first Christmas, we had only been married four days - what was I thinking to get married &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;four days before Christmas&lt;/span&gt;???)and I finally feel like my Christmas collection has started to take shape and is fairly substantial for our little apartment.  So, I'm taking a moment to brag and boast and I'm going to force you to 'ooh' and 'aah' at my stuff.  (actually, I'm aware that it's really nothing fantastic and totally understand if you want to look at another website instead.  Go, leave now, before it gets any worse)  Also, for the sake of time and everyone's gag reflexes, I'm only posting the new or refurbished decorations - fair enough?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First up is a small quilt that Bon's mom made for him when he was younger.  In the past, we've just draped it over the couch but it always fell down and got ignored - so this year, I attached some rick-rack to it and hung it on our pantry door.  Ingenious, I tell you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeSMyiPs0I/AAAAAAAAAeM/iK-qriZqxds/s1600-h/108_2351.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeSMyiPs0I/AAAAAAAAAeM/iK-qriZqxds/s320/108_2351.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419961424985174850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, we have our "Merry Christmas" sign.  I made it a couple years ago at a Relief Society craft day thing.  I originally painted it forest-green, but I've been trying to do a red/burgundy/white/cream theme with our Christmas stuff, so I repainted it this year. And, luckily, the original ribbon I had used for it matched perfectly!  (are you gagging yet?)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeTSGLkW4I/AAAAAAAAAeU/FzVWJmVtHlM/s1600-h/108_2354.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeTSGLkW4I/AAAAAAAAAeU/FzVWJmVtHlM/s320/108_2354.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419962615669742466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, here's a new one to the group.  This puppy took a LOT of time.  And a lot of glue sticks.  I saw the idea &lt;a href="http://www.eddieross.com/eddie_ross/2008/12/no-wire-hangers-well-maybe-just-one.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; (warning: mine is not nearly as good looking as the original.  Not even close) and thought it was simple enough that I could do it.  Psh, WRONG.  Ok, well, it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;easy&lt;/span&gt; enough but it was just really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;time consuming&lt;/span&gt; at took &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;way more&lt;/span&gt; ornament balls than I thought it would.  And hanging it up wasn't easy either.  Anyway, with all this buildup, prepare to be underwhelmed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeU1ZTXp2I/AAAAAAAAAec/KvRyBLA2Ki0/s1600-h/108_2348.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeU1ZTXp2I/AAAAAAAAAec/KvRyBLA2Ki0/s320/108_2348.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419964321609787234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another new one is the set of five ornaments I finished this year (yes, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;finished&lt;/span&gt; - I bought them two years ago).  I originally just painted them burgundy and hung them on the tree.  But after a couple of days, I got the idea to cover them in red glitter-glue for some added sparkle.  And, now I LOVE them!  They are so pretty when the tree lights are shining on them.  Gosh, they give me warm fuzzies.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeZJCicH4I/AAAAAAAAAek/2qi0pqSU7Mo/s1600-h/108_2364.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeZJCicH4I/AAAAAAAAAek/2qi0pqSU7Mo/s320/108_2364.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419969057142873986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, lastly, the crowning glory.  In the past, we've rigged up a few different methods of hanging our stockings, but nothing I was ever crazy about.  Then, last year, I saw &lt;a href="http://lollyjaneboutique.blogspot.com/2008/11/stockings-were-hung.html"&gt;this blog pos&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://lollyjaneboutique.blogspot.com/2008/11/stockings-were-hung.html"&gt;t&lt;/a&gt; using a sign and knobs to display stockings.  I thought it was way cool and finally got around to it this year.  (also, a little plug - I have gotten several signs from Lolly Jane and she always does an AMAZING job - LOVE her!)  So, I got the vinyl from Lolly Jane and used some knobs I got from Anthropologie and - voila!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzebiqGVkiI/AAAAAAAAAes/R2O7IcrKHJc/s1600-h/108_2347.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzebiqGVkiI/AAAAAAAAAes/R2O7IcrKHJc/s320/108_2347.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419971696282407458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, there you have it: some of my Christmas decorations!  And, look, we all survived!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2257270521082013444?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2257270521082013444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2257270521082013444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-had-fully-intended-to-post-this.html' title='I had fully intended to post this BEFORE Christmas...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SzeSMyiPs0I/AAAAAAAAAeM/iK-qriZqxds/s72-c/108_2351.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2112782847349411430</id><published>2009-11-02T20:43:00.011-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-02T21:55:16.874-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Insert clever Halloween title here  (also, the abundance of pictures are for my mom)</title><content type='html'>Let's see, for the actual day of Halloween, Bon's little sister (Hannah) threw a great little bash and it was quite fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But 99% of my Halloween efforts were absorbed by the party I hosted the weekend before.  It was fun (or, at least &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; think so) but caused LOTS of stress beforehand!  And now, I'm going to let the pictures do the talking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Decor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Su-yJBkGYiI/AAAAAAAAAdc/8MbjRi_PYIk/s1600-h/Picnik+collage+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Su-yJBkGYiI/AAAAAAAAAdc/8MbjRi_PYIk/s400/Picnik+collage+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399730346348929570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Costumes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Su-zrVBZ6EI/AAAAAAAAAdk/6AV56D-ixP0/s1600-h/Picnik+collage+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Su-zrVBZ6EI/AAAAAAAAAdk/6AV56D-ixP0/s400/Picnik+collage+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399732035199297602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bon and Me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I doubt many people will get our costume reference, so let me explain it first... There's a video game that Bon loves (ok, he loves a lot of video games...) called "&lt;a href="http://www.l4d.com/home.html"&gt;Left 4 Dead&lt;/a&gt;".  In it, the four characters - Louis, Francis, Zoe, and Bill - are trying to survive the Zombie Apocalypse are are accosted by thousands of zombies.  It's quite horrific.  So, in sticking with our video game themes of previous years, I dressed up as Zoe and Bon was a zombie.  I got to kill him - it was great.  Bon even made me my own &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(pretend)&lt;/span&gt; pipe bomb!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Su-3LErNJtI/AAAAAAAAAds/DPssXrAAJPM/s1600-h/Picnik+collage+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Su-3LErNJtI/AAAAAAAAAds/DPssXrAAJPM/s400/Picnik+collage+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399735879101916882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Su-op7xaJHI/AAAAAAAAAcM/27vLPYWdPMc/s1600-h/108_2322.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2112782847349411430?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2112782847349411430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2112782847349411430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/11/also-abundance-of-pictures-are-for-my.html' title='Insert clever Halloween title here  (also, the abundance of pictures are for my mom)'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Su-yJBkGYiI/AAAAAAAAAdc/8MbjRi_PYIk/s72-c/Picnik+collage+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-5909109296852024239</id><published>2009-09-26T08:37:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T09:11:26.985-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have I Ever Mentioned...</title><content type='html'>That I LOVE HALLOWEEN!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't bust out the physical decorations until October 1st, but I figured it wouldn't hurt if I put the blog decorations up a bit early.  After all, I'm nothing if not impatient.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I could also use this opportunity to update you on the comings and going of our lives.  Although, I maintain that &lt;a href="http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-havent-blogged-because-im-boring.html"&gt;my life is totally boring&lt;/a&gt;, so this might be a very short post...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weeks ago, I hit the 90-day mark at my job (which is usually about the time I get laid off) and so had the 90-day-review with my bosses last week.  I was a wreck in the days preceding the interview - sure, I was feeling good about my job performance, but I had felt good about my work at my previous jobs too and they laid me off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, during lunch, I met with the two owners of the practice and we reviewed my performance along with a little questionnaire I had filled out (can I just say: honestly, I wrote &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;several drafts&lt;/span&gt; for each little question - I mean, these were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;psychologists&lt;/span&gt; that were reviewing my answers - they're &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;trained&lt;/span&gt; to analyze the crap out of that stuff!!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the interview went really well - and I even got a raise!  w00t!!  But the biggest thing for me is just that I finally feel appreciated and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;safe&lt;/span&gt; - I don't have that feeling that one mistake will get me fired.  I'm really loving my job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(at this point in the blogging process, I asked Bon if there was any update he'd want me to share on his behalf.  He replied  "...uh...I don't think so...")&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-5909109296852024239?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5909109296852024239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5909109296852024239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/09/have-i-ever-mentioned.html' title='Have I Ever Mentioned...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8733951020021123426</id><published>2009-08-28T17:49:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T18:27:16.079-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You come in to MY HOUSE and attack MY FAMILY!?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="text_expose_id_4a987ae0e2d3a9391249352" class="comment_actual_text text_exposed"&gt;-- or  --  SCORPIONS ATTACK!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So 1am last night, Bon and I are fast asleep - suddenly, Bon shoots right up and grabs his foot. He's shouting in pain so I ask him if he was having a charlie horse. He's like "no, something stabbed me!" I have no clue what he's talking about, so I start to fall back to sleep (I'm such a nurturing wife!) and he hobbles to the bathroom &lt;span class="text_exposed_show"&gt;to inspect his foot. He's almost crying in pain so I go check it out too, but we can't see anything. I get back in to bed and Bon realizes "I know what did it - it was a scorpion! Jessie, get out of the bed!!!" So I get BACK out of bed and shake out the sheets but don't see anything. (at this point, I'm overcome by a massive wave of nausea from being woken up so abruptly so I run in to our other bathroom and almost pass out) So poor, stung Bon is left to hunt down and kill the predator himself which he quickly finds at the foot of the bed on our bedskirt. He hobbles out to the kitchen and grabs our Raid and returns to douse the monster with a &lt;/span&gt;generous spray. Finally, we both recover enough to drag ourselves out to the computer and call poison control (after I disposed of the carcass - man, that thing was crazy looking!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poison control said the symptoms would last a good 6-7 hours. I think Bon can attest to that and then some!  Poor guy wanted to chop his foot off!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8733951020021123426?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8733951020021123426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8733951020021123426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-come-in-to-my-house-and-attack-my.html' title='You come in to MY HOUSE and attack MY FAMILY!?!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-7421220031093693969</id><published>2009-08-01T08:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T09:22:45.637-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kids Say the Darndest Things, Don't They?</title><content type='html'>So Froggybaby's comment on my last post got me thinking: kids really don't have a filter between their brain and mouth (I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;still&lt;/span&gt; don't have one) which can lead to some pretty funny revelations.  Heck, looking back, I can think of several things &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; said that probably made my parents want to melt in to the floor. I'm gonna share my favorite oh-no-they-didn't tale and then I want everyone to share their favorite story too (it can be something someone else's kid said or something your own child said - if you want to own up to it) (c'mon, I need some comfort before starting in Primary tomorrow!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, back when I was eighteen, a family asked me to babysit their 5 year old daughter and their 2 year old son.  Just to give some background, I had never met the family before - they were friends of a family in my ward; the mother was an avid Mary Kay "consultant" and the father was the pastor at their church.  I got the vibe that they were very...how do I say this?..."into their image".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, towards the end of the babysitting evening, I was coloring with the little girl.  We were drawing pictures for each other, so I thought I'd be all cutesy and draw a picture of her family.  She was very excited about it and it inspired her to draw a picture of her dad.  When she was done, she handed it to me and proceed to explain her 5 year old scribbles:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This is my dad sitting in front of the mirror.  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;He takes his hair off every night&lt;/span&gt; in front of the mirror.  See, he's brushing it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea what to say to that, so we just went back to coloring.  I tell ya, it was really hard not to rake my eyes over the dad's hairline when the parents got back home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SnRrrl68xcI/AAAAAAAAAbM/MV7XB2AEU9o/s1600-h/duct_tape.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 329px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SnRrrl68xcI/AAAAAAAAAbM/MV7XB2AEU9o/s400/duct_tape.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365031452763014594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-7421220031093693969?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7421220031093693969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7421220031093693969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/08/kids-say-darndest-things-dont-they.html' title='Kids Say the Darndest Things, Don&apos;t They?'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SnRrrl68xcI/AAAAAAAAAbM/MV7XB2AEU9o/s72-c/duct_tape.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-7222551253812640460</id><published>2009-07-28T20:03:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T20:28:00.453-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Gee, Paw!"</title><content type='html'>So, this past Sunday, Bon and I were called to be Primary Teachers for the 6-year olds...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I won't share all my feelings on the subject, but I will say that there were some tears... And, boy, did Bon feel silly about crying in church! &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(kidding!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, tonight while we were looking through the masterpiece-of-organization that is our Teachers Manual, I found a page about "things to understand about each age group."  I began to read the part about six-year olds and am now wondering if my class has been cryogenically frozen from the 1950's...  here's what the manual explains of them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Girls this age learn to jump rope, bounce a ball, and play jacks.  Boys learn to whistle, turn hand springs, and balance a pole on the open &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hand.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else feel like the children described in that paragraph are from the sleepy town of Mayburry?  Is Andy Griffith the bishop? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good job at not updating your materials for the past fifty years, Primary.  This should be a great help! &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sm_BVs5B1gI/AAAAAAAAAbE/eq5eUH-FfNI/s1600-h/T173-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 281px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sm_BVs5B1gI/AAAAAAAAAbE/eq5eUH-FfNI/s320/T173-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363718259793319426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-7222551253812640460?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7222551253812640460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7222551253812640460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/07/gee-paw.html' title='&quot;Gee, Paw!&quot;'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sm_BVs5B1gI/AAAAAAAAAbE/eq5eUH-FfNI/s72-c/T173-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-3115795066198013998</id><published>2009-07-25T23:39:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T23:45:13.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Haven't Blogged Because I'm Boring.</title><content type='html'>The other night, Bon and I were chatting over dinner about our day and swapping stories.  Even though his stories may not have been any sort of show-stopping extravaganza, Bon at least &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;had&lt;/span&gt; stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I paused for a moment to gather and evaluate my limited options, and proceeded to share the highlight of my day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first patient of the morning had a huge booger hanging out of her nose and never got rid of it - even after she went to the bathrooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......wow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-3115795066198013998?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3115795066198013998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3115795066198013998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-havent-blogged-because-im-boring.html' title='I Haven&apos;t Blogged Because I&apos;m Boring.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-3583115837267505015</id><published>2009-07-10T20:58:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T07:07:26.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our location has been compromised - it's no longer safe here.</title><content type='html'>After two and a half years of successful hiding, the enemy has found us and begun assaults.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The enemy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These soulless monsters:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SlgS4V8bDoI/AAAAAAAAAaE/bzykkJbsEtw/s1600-h/scorpion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 292px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SlgS4V8bDoI/AAAAAAAAAaE/bzykkJbsEtw/s320/scorpion.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357052515929755266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scorpions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know scorpions are super common here in Arizona - and we've been uncannily fortunate to not have seen any in our apartment until now - but I just don't feel safe now that I've spotted one in our home.  (I've seen one and Bon's killed 2 babies.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first encounter was a few weeks ago when my mom was here.  I was sitting at the kitchen table, putting my makeup on and my mom was sitting over on the couch.  She looked over at the kitchen counters and saw a "cricket" down in the corner.  She got a shoe a went over to kill it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh wow - this cricket is HUGE!"  I heard her comment.  I couldn't see it from where I was sitting, so I just continued with my makeup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, no, maybe it's not a cricket.  It must be a spider," she continued.   I suggested that maybe it was a Wolf Spider (very creepy guys).  She still didn't seem satisfied with that diagnosis, but launched the shoe at the insect none the less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard her mutter that it wasn't dead and then SHREIK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I whipped around and saw the cricket/spider &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;chasing&lt;/span&gt; after my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What creature &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;chases &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;after it's attacker??  Especially when the attacker is 100 times it's size! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain clicked on, "Mom, that's a scorpion!  Watch out!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully, my mom threw the shoe down one more time and was able to crush the 2 inch monster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, imagine what could've happened if she hadn't killed him and he'd stung her!  The thing about scorpions that scares me is that they can actually poison and KILL you!  I mean, crickets, ants, and spiders are all annoying and give me the willies - but a scorpion could knock you out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just feel like, now that we've been found out, the scorpions are going to flood our doors, each trying it's hand at attacking us!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-3583115837267505015?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3583115837267505015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3583115837267505015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/07/our-location-has-been-compromised-its.html' title='Our location has been compromised - it&apos;s no longer safe here.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SlgS4V8bDoI/AAAAAAAAAaE/bzykkJbsEtw/s72-c/scorpion.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2312417100274656825</id><published>2009-07-04T10:19:00.011-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T19:53:04.552-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jello, jello - yum, yum, YUM!</title><content type='html'>Normally, I don't have any recipes to share that couldn't be found on the back of a box.  So it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure (5 points for movie reference) that I share this 4th-of-July-traditional-dessert with you!  My mom would make it every year and I LOVED it - it was light and fresh enough that it didn't weigh you down in the humid Minnesota summer, but ice-creamy and dessert-y enough that it was a certainly a special treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, here we go: (and of course, because I am always punished by Murphy's Law: I could make this recipe with my eyes closed last summer - but because I decided to document this batch and post it for the world to see, I keep messing up.  Please don't judge me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 packages of jello (the smaller boxes - but of course, I grabbed the larger boxes this time - d'oh)&lt;br /&gt;2 cups boiling water&lt;br /&gt;3/4 cup cold water&lt;br /&gt;2 cups vanilla ice cream&lt;br /&gt;Cool Whip&lt;br /&gt;fruit*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boil 1 cup water.&lt;br /&gt;Add in jello mix.  Stir well.&lt;br /&gt;Add in 2 cups ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;Stir till ice cream has dissolved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you should have a thick, frothy soup.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pour mixture into serving bowl and refrigerate for 1 hour or until mixture has set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a separate pan, (I usually wait for a little bit before I start this step to give the first part some extra time to set)&lt;br /&gt;Boil 1 cup water.&lt;br /&gt;Add in jello mix.  Stir well.&lt;br /&gt;Add 3/4 cup COLD water.&lt;br /&gt;Refrigerate till almost solid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the jello/ice cream mix is set, layer the fruit on it.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-y7UM94rI/AAAAAAAAAZk/Mo1b7PqNAsc/s1600-h/108_2235.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-y7UM94rI/AAAAAAAAAZk/Mo1b7PqNAsc/s320/108_2235.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354695214071931570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-z64P-luI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/x3Z10i3pwf0/s1600-h/108_2239.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-z64P-luI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/x3Z10i3pwf0/s320/108_2239.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354696306079995618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then pour the not-quite-set jello on top of all of that.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-znn2HGoI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/rMZMYvqlAvY/s1600-h/108_2244.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-znn2HGoI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/rMZMYvqlAvY/s320/108_2244.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354695975259019906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Refrigerate again until jello is completely set.&lt;br /&gt;Finish with Cool Whip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Voila!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-zRYAGFAI/AAAAAAAAAZs/UNGsbTsetQ8/s1600-h/108_2245.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-zRYAGFAI/AAAAAAAAAZs/UNGsbTsetQ8/s320/108_2245.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354695593048806402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*naturally, it's best to coordinate your jello flavor with the fruit choice.  My mom would always do a peach combo - but none of Bon's family like peaches, so I do a raspberry combo (I've also done blackberry with much success).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. - I can't remember if I posted this recipe last summer...but since that blog has since been erased, I guess it doesn't much matter...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2312417100274656825?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2312417100274656825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2312417100274656825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/07/jello-jello-yum-yum-yum.html' title='Jello, jello - yum, yum, YUM!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sk-y7UM94rI/AAAAAAAAAZk/Mo1b7PqNAsc/s72-c/108_2235.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-4988896066120421508</id><published>2009-07-03T09:45:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-03T13:34:25.572-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Phone Conversation from my Third Day at Work</title><content type='html'>me:  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(very bubbly)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Lifespan Behavioral Health, this is Jessie - how can I help you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;caller: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;(in a rushed tone)&lt;/span&gt; Yeah, I need to speak to Dr. Peterson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me:  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;(still bubbly)&lt;/span&gt; I'm sorry, she's out of the office today.  But I can get a message to her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;caller: &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(hesitates but then hurries on)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  K.  This is _____  from :Facility: and it's about :Patient's Name:  The number is _______.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Ok!  Is there any message I can tell her as well?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;caller:  Uh, yes, it's urgent - the patient is being investigated for homicide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: ...........uuhhh, okay......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor assured me this was the first call of that nature they'd ever gotten.  I guess my job is a "baptism by fire" sort of place...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*names have been changed to protect the innocent...until proven guilty...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-4988896066120421508?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4988896066120421508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4988896066120421508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/07/phone-conversation-from-my-third-day-at.html' title='A Phone Conversation from my Third Day at Work'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-3316994701612863593</id><published>2009-06-13T21:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T22:08:19.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow...</title><content type='html'>My time with the internet is going to be much more limited now that I have a job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you read it right - I am employed.  (this is job number six out here for those of you that are counting...)  I started this past Monday.  It's a small mental health clinic (Bon hopes I can get some treatment myself) and I am the "front office/administrative assistant" person. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, so good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do miss the internet, though...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-3316994701612863593?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3316994701612863593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3316994701612863593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/06/parting-is-such-sweet-sorrow.html' title='Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2132724632867141090</id><published>2009-05-25T10:26:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T10:32:03.412-07:00</updated><title type='text'>After Two and a Half Years of Living Here...</title><content type='html'>...I finally figured out that if I close the blinds the OTHER WAY, I won't wake up to the morning sun shining in my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShrV78VLlLI/AAAAAAAAAZU/5gwd1k52nuo/s1600-h/vertical_blinds-cleaning.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShrV78VLlLI/AAAAAAAAAZU/5gwd1k52nuo/s320/vertical_blinds-cleaning.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339815533985109170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2132724632867141090?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2132724632867141090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2132724632867141090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/05/after-two-and-half-years-of-living-here.html' title='After Two and a Half Years of Living Here...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShrV78VLlLI/AAAAAAAAAZU/5gwd1k52nuo/s72-c/vertical_blinds-cleaning.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-841403934717197195</id><published>2009-05-22T23:53:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T10:22:06.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Think I Can?</title><content type='html'>This past week, Bon and I have found ourselves eating a lot of foods from cans - soups, stews, Chef Boyardee, Home Style Bakes (I particularly recommend the Chicken and Biscuits).   No big deal, except that our can-opener is broken.  You'd think we'd remember this every time we reach for a canned meal - but, no - we just begin to open the can with the opener and realize that we made a mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is our can-opener broken?  (and just to clarify, I'm talking about a manual, hand-operated one - not an electric one)  Because of me.  Ever since I was little, I've always struggled with opening cans&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Shei6skeEAI/AAAAAAAAAY0/4ZclMqDM6a0/s1600-h/can-opener.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 252px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Shei6skeEAI/AAAAAAAAAY0/4ZclMqDM6a0/s320/can-opener.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338915012551249922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; with a can-opener.  I think it's because I'm left handed; I don't know why that would affect things, but it just does.  (side note: I can only operate "left-handed" scissors with my right hand - they won't cut the paper if I try with my left hand.  weird.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, somehow our can-opener has gone completely defunkt.  Opening cans has now become a two person job.  It's quite a scene to witness when we need to open a can: we attach the opener to the can as usual, then Bon uses one hand to tightly hold the two handles together so the sharp blade part will actually reach the can top to cut it, he uses his other hand to rotate the can, one of my hands does the same, while my other hand cranks the handle in the opposite direction as specified on the opener.  Our arms are all twisted around each others' and we have to stop and restart frequently to readjust the opener.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's quite the ordeal and very hilarious to watch, I'm sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-841403934717197195?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/841403934717197195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/841403934717197195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-think-i-can.html' title='I Think I Can?'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Shei6skeEAI/AAAAAAAAAY0/4ZclMqDM6a0/s72-c/can-opener.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-7130962756672120883</id><published>2009-05-20T19:42:00.009-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T20:14:50.672-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"We're just a two-man novelty band"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTFrIvQsnI/AAAAAAAAAYU/-LeHAR-IGno/s1600-h/fotc+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTFrIvQsnI/AAAAAAAAAYU/-LeHAR-IGno/s320/fotc+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338108803211637362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a couple of months ago (when we still had money to spend somewhat freely), Bon and I purchased tickets to see Flight of the Conchords.   It was last night, and it was &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;awesome&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who aren't familiar with them, let me introduce you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Flight of the Conchords&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; is a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTGTwgXy6I/AAAAAAAAAYs/LaUSwnbHxkM/s1600-h/fotc+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 257px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTGTwgXy6I/AAAAAAAAAYs/LaUSwnbHxkM/s320/fotc+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338109501081373602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy" title="Grammy" class="mw-redirect"&gt;Grammy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; Award-winning &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Zealand" title="New Zealand"&gt;New Zealand&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comedy" title="Comedy"&gt;comedy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; duo composed of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bret_McKenzie" title="Bret McKenzie"&gt;Bret McKenzie&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jemaine_Clement" title="Jemaine Clement"&gt;Jemaine Clement&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;. Billing themselves as "Formerly New Z&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;ealand's fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo accapella-rap-funk-comedy folk duo",&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; the group uses a combination of witty observation, characterisation and acoustic folk guitars. The duo's comedy and music became the basis of a BBC radio series and then an &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flight_of_the_Conchords_%28TV_series%29" title="Flight of the Conchords (TV series)"&gt;American television series&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;, which premiered in 2007, also called &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flight_of_the_Conchords_%28TV_series%29" title="Flight of the Conchords (TV series)"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Flight of the Conchords&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;." (source: Wikipedia)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've watched the first season of their HBO show (season 2 is on now, but we don't have HBO, so we'll have to wait for it to come out on dvd) and have their cd.  Both are hysterical.  The two guys are so clever and funny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTF4rFiQyI/AAAAAAAAAYc/3MV14xUYawE/s1600-h/fotc+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 255px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTF4rFiQyI/AAAAAAAAAYc/3MV14xUYawE/s320/fotc+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338109035770168098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, the live show was just as awesome!  It was basically just the two of them - sitting on stools with their guitars, surrounded by some synthesizers and keyboards - fiddling on their intstruments and playing songs.  It wasn't stand-up comedy or a full-out concert; it was a beautiful blend.  After a song or two, they'd take a break and just go back and forth with some pithy banter (although,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTGEEc6biI/AAAAAAAAAYk/N2g5A8mld-Q/s1600-h/fotc+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTGEEc6biI/AAAAAAAAAYk/N2g5A8mld-Q/s320/fotc+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338109231557668386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; the crowd was obnoxious and would keep yelling out - stupid drunk people who think it's a on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;e-on-one conversation between them and the preformers) and then go back to their songs.  I think what I liked best about it was that, even though we were the second-to-last row in the whole place, it still felt like they were there just to hang out and have fun.  A couple of times, Bret forgo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;t his lines in the middle of a song and Jemaine would tease him and get him started back up - no pressure, just two guys having fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Anyway, Bon and I loved it!  We were cracking up the whole time.  On our way back out to our car, we saw a queue of people gathered outside of the tour buses out back - so we went and joined them.  We stood out there for about an hour, waiting for Bret and Jemaine, but they had already escaped out a different door.  Alas.  But it was still a super fun night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm including two videos - one is from their tv show and the other is from one of their live preformances (they did this one at our concert last night - it's kind of long, but it's worth it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="VideoPlayback" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=-4583734102559576477&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=true" style="width:400px;height:326px" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mlYkIJVguCU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mlYkIJVguCU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-7130962756672120883?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7130962756672120883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7130962756672120883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/05/were-just-two-man-novelty-band.html' title='&quot;We&apos;re just a two-man novelty band&quot;'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/ShTFrIvQsnI/AAAAAAAAAYU/-LeHAR-IGno/s72-c/fotc+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2582268093809541520</id><published>2009-05-14T11:09:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T11:25:21.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is not the post I had intended to write...</title><content type='html'>The post I had intended to write was going to be humorous.  But about an hour ago, I got some news that knocked the wind out of me and wiped all humor from my mind.  Bon's hours at work just got cut down to 20 a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't know what to do.  I'm just stunned.  For the past 9 months, Bon's been working 32 hours a week and fitting classes in around it.  This is his last week of classes for the school year and then he was going to be going back to a full 40 hour work week.  Even though it wouldn't cover all the bills, we were anxious for the extra money.  If we would still be short on money with 40 hours a week, how will we survive with just 20??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And poor Bon has been trying so hard ot balance school and work, and now that he can focus on just one thing, they cut his hours.  And he's been working there for almost four years now (and doing an amazing job!) and his co-worker who has only been there for two years, didn't get a single hour cut!!  And Bon's boss KNOWS that I lost my job!  Why would they be so unfair to him after all he's done for them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been looking for a job, but no luck yet.  Bon and I had even started to talk about me possibly going back to school (and still working, of course).  Well, this totally ruins that.  It breaks my heart. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?  Why is everything falling apart all at once?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2582268093809541520?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2582268093809541520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2582268093809541520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-is-not-post-i-had-intended-to.html' title='This is not the post I had intended to write...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2602049646294195177</id><published>2009-05-10T11:51:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T14:44:39.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Mother's Day, Mom!</title><content type='html'>On this Mother's Day, I am compelled to use my blogging powers to broadcast my love for my dear mom.  She was the best mom for me - patient, gentle, patient, "lady-like", and patient - she was exactly what was needed to balance out everything I wasn't.  I'm so grateful to her for everything she did (and continues to do) for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A month or so ago, she was the featured recipient of her ward's Relief Society "Friendship Basket".  The lady presenting it to my mom did some reconnaissince work and emailed me some questions about my mom.  Here are just two of the questions and my answers for them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Your fondest memory of her as a mom?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Two things)&lt;br /&gt;My mom would read to me.  We would sit on the couch, in my bedroom, or out on the patio swing and she would read books to me for hours while I would sit and draw.  We read The Secret Garden,  all the Anne of Green Gables books, all of the Little House on the Prairie books, and all of the American Girl books (well, all the ones that were out at that point - now they have like 20 more girls!) - before I was even 10 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, my dad would travel a lot for his job when I was little.  At least one night per absence, my mom and I would snuggle up on the hide-away bed from our couch, order Pizza Hut pizza, drink orange pop, and watch either Pollyana or The Parent Trap (the Hayley Mills version).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anything else to share?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is the sweetest, kindest, most patient person I know.  She has set such an example ot me of how a "lady" should act.  She's always put herself second to those around her.  Most importantly, my mom has been the best mother - and best FRIEND - that I could ever imagine.  She's been patient with me when I was more than aggravating and immature; she's listened to all of my heartache about school, boys, friends, boys, my future, boys, my fears, and boys; and she's always been there for a laugh or hug when I needed it.  Being here in Arizona with her in Minnesota is very hard, I miss her SO much, but I know she's always thinking of me and praying for me - so I never feel too far from her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;I love you, Mommy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SgcnT7sO1vI/AAAAAAAAAX0/qzE0KuFYJmY/s1600-h/70+together+better.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SgcnT7sO1vI/AAAAAAAAAX0/qzE0KuFYJmY/s320/70+together+better.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334275507037853426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;font-size:12;"  &gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2602049646294195177?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2602049646294195177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2602049646294195177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/05/happy-mothers-day-mom.html' title='Happy Mother&apos;s Day, Mom!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SgcnT7sO1vI/AAAAAAAAAX0/qzE0KuFYJmY/s72-c/70+together+better.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-9087787117839544731</id><published>2009-05-04T15:52:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T15:54:42.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Cute Is This!?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I found this on Etsy (I'm addicted ot this site!) and totally want a set!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sf9x3kIXUyI/AAAAAAAAAXc/lNaWnOY7h3g/s1600-h/il_430xN.65981009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 274px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sf9x3kIXUyI/AAAAAAAAAXc/lNaWnOY7h3g/s320/il_430xN.65981009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332105683235459874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;(if you can't see, there's little numbers below each letter - they're Scrabble pillows!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-9087787117839544731?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/9087787117839544731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/9087787117839544731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-cute-is-this.html' title='How Cute Is This!?'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/Sf9x3kIXUyI/AAAAAAAAAXc/lNaWnOY7h3g/s72-c/il_430xN.65981009.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8104040545009827349</id><published>2009-05-01T11:26:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T11:45:06.280-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Odd New Characteristics Have Developed...</title><content type='html'>I've taken to cleaning things that don't need to be cleaned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday night, I organized all our board games in a new (to them) cupboard.  For the past two years, they've been stuffed in the trunk that stores all our blankets and this cupboard (well, it's a gutted jewelry armoire that Bon painted a lovely rust red for me and resides under a mirror in our hallway) has been mostly empty, sans a few odds n' ends and a tape-measurer from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, yesterday evening, I reorganized the trunk that had the blankets because the board game removal had freed up a lot of space.  Now all of our extra blankets, sheets, and pillowcases are easy to access and nicely stored until such an occasion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and yesterday morning (this was possibly the most unnecessary act of all), I swept our patio.  Yes, I swept the outdoors. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a logical explanation for this, I swear.  You see, we have a small patio off our bedroom (it's maybe 5' x 6') and it has a little closet that houses our washer and dryer (our apartments are weird like that: every unit does indeed have it's own washer and dryer, but they're &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;outside&lt;/span&gt; - it really annoys me).  Well, as you might imagine, it's very dusty in a desert.  I was getting tired of my feet getting dirty every time I went out to do laundry, so I thought I'd sweep up the debris (yes, wearing shoes might have been a more obvious solution).  It's actually nice to have a freshly swept patio. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of our house is also unusually clean and I am all caught up on laundry and dishes!  I keep telling myself how great this opportunity is to catch up on housework and really savor the joys of domestic bliss.  I'm also enjoying getting to all the little arts and crafts projects that I have started over the past few months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I need a job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8104040545009827349?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8104040545009827349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8104040545009827349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/05/some-odd-new-characteristics-have.html' title='Some Odd New Characteristics Have Developed...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-8484577919786222899</id><published>2009-04-24T14:42:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T18:00:59.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Universe, you've done it again!</title><content type='html'>I'm sure I'm not alone in the sentiment that I hate not knowing what the future holds for me; most everybody hates that feeling.  Well, lately, I've been feeling very unsure of what the future (or even the present) holds for me.  I don't know what the Universe expects of me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SfIzUgSLWCI/AAAAAAAAAXU/_q9r8aJkAJY/s1600-h/tobias-funke-twitter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SfIzUgSLWCI/AAAAAAAAAXU/_q9r8aJkAJY/s320/tobias-funke-twitter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328377736489293858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;*perhaps I should become an Actor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember hearing a story one time (it was used in a metaphoric way) about a guy who had missed his college team's big football game against their rival.  He had the game recorded at home, but just had to know the final results, so he asked someone and found that his team had won.  He went home and watched the game anyway.  His wife noted that he was so much calmer watching the game this way; though it was all still very exciting, he didn't go ballistic when the opposing team got the ball or scored because he knew that, in the end, it wouldn't matter because his team won.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough, this football metaphor has stuck with me.  I wish I could know the final score, going into the game (I'd also appreciate some better looking jerseys, if we're in negotiations here...).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a reason for this annoyingly cryptic post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago, I got laid off (yes, AGAIN.  this is getting ridiculous really).  Yesterday, as I went to dip my toes in the putrid waters of job listings, the first job (that looked like I was even remotely qualified for) appeared to be from the very place that I was let-go of for the very same job I was doing.  It was a slap in the face.  I was distraught and wrung my tear-and-mascara-soaked hands at the Universe.  (I came very close to blogging about it, but ate my feelings instead.)  To torture myself a little further, I emailed my resume to them saying that, what do you know!, I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt; got done working at a rheumatology clinic in this &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;exact&lt;/span&gt; capacity!  I expected that I wouldn't hear anything back from my assumed-previous-employer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got an email back today, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;from a totally different rheumatologist&lt;/span&gt;, asking for more information about me!  Yeah, it wasn't my old boss after all - Oh how I aggrivate myself! - and I'm looking nicely qualified for this new job.  So, by waiting to post about this incident for a mere 24 hours, the whole tone of the story has changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story: record your football games for later viewing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-8484577919786222899?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8484577919786222899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/8484577919786222899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/04/oh-universe-youve-done-it-again.html' title='Oh Universe, you&apos;ve done it again!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SfIzUgSLWCI/AAAAAAAAAXU/_q9r8aJkAJY/s72-c/tobias-funke-twitter.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-7555210638345394142</id><published>2009-04-21T08:31:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T09:30:40.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Coming.</title><content type='html'>Summer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Yes, this post is about "boring" weather talk; but it &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; important, nonetheless, because this weather will dictate my living habits for the next six months. ("six months?" you say, yes, that is how long summer lasts in Arizona)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I lived back in Minnesota, I remember seeing those weather maps, from time to time, with the continental U.S. where different colors spreading across the country signified different temperatures.  No matter the season, Minnesota usually had aqua blues and neon greens for the cooler temperatures.  I always noted that Phoenix, Arizona usually had the "hottest" colors that the scale went to - bright reds and purples.  Never did I think I would have to LIVE in those colors.  Oh, and so you know, a color hasn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;even been invented ye&lt;/span&gt;t for the temperature inside your car after it's been sitting in the middle of a parking lot all day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday it went up to 94 degrees.  It's April.  Do you know what that means? By May, we'll be in the 100's.  And then, of course, there is the 120 heat.  If you have not lived in 120 degree heat, let me describe a simple day of running errands for you:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you wake up, the temperature in your house is in the mid 80's (you try to save on electricity bills) and you're drenched in sweat.  You turn the thermostat cooler, but your house is still too miserable for you to put clothes on.  So you take a shower - you have the water turned to what would have been frigid in the winter, but now it's refreshing.  When you turn the sink faucet on to brush your teeth, the "cold" water scalds you and you have to wait a minute for the water to cool down...it's still very warm after 2 minutes of running the water, so you relent and brush your teeth anyway.  You can never fully dry off after the shower because you keep sweating; your fresh clothes get hot and sticky before you finish your hair and makeup (which will melt off before you get to your first errand, so don't worry about perfect application). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay!  You're ready to head out and be productive!  You open your front door and step outside.  Instantly, the air is sucked out of your lungs and evaporates within nanoseconds.  It's a shock every time.  The sweat that rushes to your skins surface evaporates as well and you feel like you're in some sick furnace (you were tricked!  the outdoors looked so pretty from inside the house!).  Once you get your bearings and catch your breath, your first instinct is to RUN to your car for shelter.  But, you rationalize, the last thing you should do in this oppressive heat is expend more energy.  Either way, all you can manage is a slow, hulking walk; try to keep your thighs from rubbing together and your arms from brushing at your sides - no sense in making &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; heat with the friction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You finally lumber up to your car.  Wait - you didn't plan on how to OPEN the door!  That is shiny metal that has been sitting out in the sun for hours!  Suck it up, grab the handle and yank the door open.  Oh, if that first step out of your house was bad, it is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt; to the heat your car exhales.   It's like a monster out of the pits of hell, breathing its foul stench onto you.  You whimper as you get in and struggle with grasping the melting seat belt buckle (you debate on how important safety really is).  You try to steer with only three or four finger tips because the steering wheel seems to be on fire.  And though you have the AC cranked all the way up, you aren't able to start breathing again until you pull into a parking space at your destination. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, you face the same struggle and debate as you get out of the car - do you run or crawl to the store entrance?  Once you finally cross the threshold - oh sweet cold air!  You think it's the most glorious feeling and you consider how much extra time you can spare in this Wal-Mart.  But don't think you get off this easy - the sudden, drastic change in temperature gives you a stabbing headache; your dear refuge comes with a price.  Though you enjoy the refreshing temperatures of the store and want to take your sweet time, you know that with every second ticking away, your car is getting hotter and hotter in the parking lot.  You can't believe yourslef, but you're actually &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;rushing&lt;/span&gt; to get back to your car! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's no use, the same firey monster awaits you in the parking lot.  You debate how productive you really want to be this day.  And can you do any of these tasks after dark?  It's a little bit cooler then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.  That is why I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DREAD&lt;/span&gt; summers here.  The (fleeting) winters always seduce me, but then I'm brought back to the hellish summers.  All I ask for is pity; after all, I am not one to suffer in silence.  ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, I hope I haven't scared off any visitors!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-7555210638345394142?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7555210638345394142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7555210638345394142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-coming.html' title='It&apos;s Coming.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-6490040502674571004</id><published>2009-04-20T14:51:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T15:05:07.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back!</title><content type='html'>I haven't written here for a while.  I don't know why.  I always have ideas or experiences where I think during or afterwards, "ooh, I need to blog about this!"  But I just can't seem to get the words out when I go to type them (if I go at all).  But I really want to get back in to the blogging habit; it was nice to document my "thought-release". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see, just a real quick rundown of some February/March/April highlights:&lt;br /&gt;*sorry, no pictures*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feb - I turned 23.&lt;br /&gt;- Bon surprised me with a romantic dinner at The Melting Pot (the yummiest fondue place!)&lt;br /&gt;- my mom and aunt flew out here for a long weekend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;March - Bon turned 26.&lt;br /&gt;-I took Bon (and his immediate family) to Benihana&lt;br /&gt;-we spent an AWESOME weekend at Disneyland!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;April - had our friends, the Collinwoods, stay with us from Utah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm determined to be better at this!  Now that I'm "mini" caught up, I plan on staying that way!  Please continue to check back in!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-6490040502674571004?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6490040502674571004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/6490040502674571004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/04/back.html' title='Back!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-2875514154370020939</id><published>2009-02-11T18:49:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T18:52:25.558-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to ME!</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who called, emailed, texted, or in some way contacted me to wish me a happy birthday.  I had a very lovely day indeed and thoroughly enjoyed my DiGiorno pizza!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-2875514154370020939?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2875514154370020939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/2875514154370020939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/02/happy-birthday-to-me.html' title='Happy Birthday to ME!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-5579761037894842671</id><published>2009-02-01T10:02:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T10:05:27.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stains and I have much in common.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://www.todaysbigthing.com/betamax/betamax.swf?item_id=1155&amp;amp;fullscreen=1" width="480" height="360"&gt;                         &lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;                         &lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;                         &lt;param name="movie" quality="best" value="http://www.todaysbigthing.com/betamax/betamax.swf?item_id=1155&amp;amp;fullscreen=1"&gt;                     &lt;/object&gt;&lt;div style="'padding:5px"&gt;See more &lt;a href="'http://www.todaysbigthing.com/'"&gt;funny videos&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="'http://www.todaysbigthing.com/'"&gt;TBT Videos&lt;/a&gt; at &lt;a href="'http://www.todaysbigthing.com/'"&gt;Today's Big Thing&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-5579761037894842671?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5579761037894842671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5579761037894842671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/02/stains-and-i-have-much-in-common.html' title='Stains and I have much in common.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-1873834918910834344</id><published>2009-01-24T19:39:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T20:01:42.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorry, no pictures with this post!</title><content type='html'>So tonight we were at Bon's aunt's house for his grandma's 75th birthday - it was a great party with all the extended family there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Towards the end of the evening, Bon got a text message on his cell phone.  He went over to the dining room table where most of the group was sitting, chatting, and opened his phone to check it out.  From the living room, I heard "GAH!"  I ran over to Bon to see what was the matter and he was standing there, red faced, with his phone clutched to his chest.  Everyone was looking at his shocked face, so I pried the phone from his grasp at looked at the screen.  &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;BOOBS!&lt;/span&gt;  I shreiked and passed it on to my sister-in-law.  We couldn't believe it!  Someone had just texted Bon a topless picture! (it was very "ameture-ish", so it wasn't an ad)  Along with it came a text that said "is this tood tele number"  huh??  Bon checked the number and had no clue who it was from and neither did I.  So, we did the mature thing and &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;passed it around&lt;/span&gt; for everyone to look at!  And just as we were finishing up the first round of viewing - a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SECOND&lt;/span&gt; picture of the boobs came over!  So of course we passed it around again!  Upon seeing the pictures, Bon's tiny, 75 year-old grandma replies "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sure her boobs are big, but her face is ugly!&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After letting everyone have a turn at gawking, I took the phone and replied to the brazen hussy that texted her boobies to my husband: Um, you've got the wrong number girlie, but I just showed my whole family your pics.  My grandma says you've got big boobs but an ungly face."  Bon thinks I was too harsh (crushing her "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;confidence&lt;/span&gt;" and "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;self-esteem&lt;/span&gt;"), but I think that's what the moron &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;deserved&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*the pictures have since been deleted from his phone.   :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-1873834918910834344?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1873834918910834344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1873834918910834344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/01/sorry-no-pictures-with-this-post.html' title='Sorry, no pictures with this post!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-1771881834542738271</id><published>2009-01-17T11:33:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T11:55:53.973-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blankety Blank Zero!</title><content type='html'>What, you didn't catch that?  Why, I just told you my weight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my secret (well, I guess it's not a secret now...) goals for this year is to lose some weight.  I asked Bon to get me a Weight Watchers membership for Christmas and I've been *somewhat* faithfully using it since New Years.  To be totally honest, I haven't been perfect with it and have still indulged a bit (and haven't done any exercising yet) - but I'm still seeing results with the few changes that have been implemented!  *the saddest change being that we switched from 1% milk to skim.  yuck.  (tangent: Bon told me that they have 6% milk in New Zealand.  Is that true?!?  If so, will someone please send me some?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the reason I'm sharing this (which I had originally vowed not to - or at least not until I reached my very distant goal weight) is because, when I stepped on the scale today, I saw that there was finally a decent decline in weight!  On New Year's Day, I weighed _ _ 7  and today I weigh _ _ 0   !!!  Seven pounds - not bad for still eating out occasionally and not excercising!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I thought I'd remind myself of a moment of weakness I had this week:  On Monday, Bon was kind enough to go grocery shopping on his way home from work and he made sure to only buy healthy foods that would be good for our diet.  Well, he called me a little later because he had accidently locked his keys in his trunk and needed me to come rescue him.  I told him I would, but only if he bought a DiGiorno pizza (I had been craving the cheezy-goodness all day).  He tried to reason with me, but finally agreed to go back in and purchase one as I drove over.  When I got there, I demanded the pizza as payment - but he hadn't gotten it.  He refused to give in and "ruin" our diet and I refused to unlock his trunk.  After a few minutes of trying every method (begging, pouting, batting of eyelashed, nearing tears - and that was just Bon!), I was given a firm-yet-loving talking to about how we needed to be healthy...so, with no pizza, I unlocked Bon's trunk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am getting a whole DiGiorno pizza all to myself for my birthday, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-1771881834542738271?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1771881834542738271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/1771881834542738271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/01/blankety-blank-zero.html' title='Blankety Blank Zero!'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-3856769054528718787</id><published>2009-01-14T19:48:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T20:39:04.387-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Guess I Have a Face for Radio...</title><content type='html'>Okay, normally, I try to brush off something like this; but since it's happened at least 4 times in the past two weeks, it needs to be addressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are three of us girls at my job, managing the very hectic office.  One girl works mainly checking the patients in and out and the other girl takes patients to the rooms and begins their appointment, so the task of handling the phones is left mainly to me.   I take calls and make calls.  (one of my more enjoyable tasks is to call the patients the day before their appointment to remind them of it - I use my perkiest voice to "ask that [they] please arrive fifteen minutes ahead of [their] scheduled appointment time" and such)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, anyway, much to my surprise - when the patients actually come in to the office for their appointments, a lot of them tell us girls or the doctor how kind and cheerful we are on the phone and what a pleasure it is to talk to us (I say "us", because the other girls do handle the phones too - it's not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ALL&lt;/span&gt; me).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Except...  There have been several instances that have all played out the exact same way (this scenario happened twice this very afternoon):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The patient (usually an elderly person) comes in and cheerfully - almost &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;eagerly&lt;/span&gt; - gets up to the front counter to begin the check-in process.  They *try to* casually ask the Front Desk Girl if she is "Jessie" or "the girl that called them yesterday to remind them of their appointment."  She replies that she's not, and they emphatically gush that Jessie has the &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;prettiest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; voice and is &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so lovely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; over the phone.  The Front Desk Girl turns to get my attention so I can receive my compliment - but in the few nanoseconds before she can get the words out, I watch the patients' faces: they excitedly look at me - but not quite at me...more like &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;around&lt;/span&gt; me - waiting for me to move so the girl with the face to match the beautiful voice can be seen.  I see the shock when they realize the girl in front of them is the one they spoke with on the phone and I see them try to hide their disappointment.  They kindly repeat their compliment of my voice, but leave it at that - no more gushing, no more eager glances.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't mind, really.  It's actually kind of funny.  Plus, I'm just glad that at least &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;SOMETHING&lt;/span&gt; about me is attractive!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-3856769054528718787?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3856769054528718787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/3856769054528718787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-guess-i-have-face-for-radio.html' title='I Guess I Have a Face for Radio...'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-4261477642000825329</id><published>2009-01-01T09:11:00.010-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-01T10:14:10.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2008 in Summation</title><content type='html'>*hopefully some of these items will include photo documentation...but I make no promises...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;** also, I'm sure there are things that I will forget to include - forgive me, it's nothing personal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jan - take a spontaneous road trip to Chino Hills, Ca (Bono's hometown).  It was really nice to see Bon's old stomping grounds (dorky that I said "stomping grounds") - he showed me his high school, church building, favorite hang out spots and we were able to visit some friends of his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feb - I turned 22.&lt;br /&gt;- Bon's little sister, Sarah, got married.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzxq4wXFTI/AAAAAAAAAU4/DmqgdoB8NfA/s1600-h/108_1729.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzxq4wXFTI/AAAAAAAAAU4/DmqgdoB8NfA/s320/108_1729.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286365781718144306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mar - I got fired from my job.    (I never said I was only including "happy" highlights)&lt;br /&gt;- Bon turned 25.  He's a quarter-of-a-century old! (I took him to Benihana for his bday)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzvu30eysI/AAAAAAAAAUw/0XuNBG1LH8w/s1600-h/n193303820_32100324_6225.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzvu30eysI/AAAAAAAAAUw/0XuNBG1LH8w/s320/n193303820_32100324_6225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286363651163212482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apr - got a job at Hastings &amp;amp; Hastings Law Firm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May - went to Minnesota for my bff, Haleigh's, wedding (she was a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;beautiful&lt;/span&gt; bride)!  Me and my girls are all married off - hard to believe we're grown up enough for that!  Anyway, it's always great to go back home and see family and friends.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzu6ZaLr1I/AAAAAAAAAUg/_GQp-k3AqXE/s1600-h/n199109888_32504535_516.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzu6ZaLr1I/AAAAAAAAAUg/_GQp-k3AqXE/s320/n199109888_32504535_516.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286362749646647122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzvEpz95jI/AAAAAAAAAUo/RfhK6Pf7EUQ/s1600-h/n199109888_32506284_5112.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzvEpz95jI/AAAAAAAAAUo/RfhK6Pf7EUQ/s320/n199109888_32506284_5112.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286362925848454706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jun - Bon and I celebrated our year-and-a-half anniversary (hey, I'll use any excuse for treats)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jul - reconciled with some Mrs. Wilcoxes   :)&lt;br /&gt;- our friend, Mitch, came out to visit us!  Mitch is quite the video gamer, too, so Bon was able to have a gaming buddy - he was in heaven!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzx_1sXAtI/AAAAAAAAAVA/0Ft6XIutrCY/s1600-h/108_1880.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzx_1sXAtI/AAAAAAAAAVA/0Ft6XIutrCY/s320/108_1880.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286366141673308882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aug - got laid off from Hastings &amp;amp; Hastings Law Firm&lt;br /&gt;- Bon went back to another semester of school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sept - ...nothing comes to mind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oct - Sarah and I hosted a Halloween party.  Bon and I were Mr. &amp;amp; Mrs. Pac-Man!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVz1hHiBHYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/BhvOOFQc3bI/s1600-h/108_2082.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVz1hHiBHYI/AAAAAAAAAVI/BhvOOFQc3bI/s320/108_2082.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286370011932335490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nov - got a job with Dr. Carolyn Pace's rheumatology practice.&lt;br /&gt;- spent Thanksgiving in Minnesota.  It was an awesome week!  I got to spend time with so many family and friends (new and old).   (sorry, forgot to take any pics!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dec - celebrated &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TWO years&lt;/span&gt; of wedded bliss with my Bono!&lt;br /&gt;- accidently deleted my blog&lt;br /&gt;- my mommy came to visit foor Christmas! We went and saw the lights and nativity displays at the Mesa Temple, had Christmas at Bon's parents', and watched A Muppet Christmas Carol.  It was lovely.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVz3YXBzpaI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/ODIf2B-A1lw/s1600-h/108_2114.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVz3YXBzpaI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/ODIf2B-A1lw/s320/108_2114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286372060496635298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVz5eNuXyFI/AAAAAAAAAVY/uYOUB1F2iis/s1600-h/red+tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVz5eNuXyFI/AAAAAAAAAVY/uYOUB1F2iis/s320/red+tree.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286374360101668946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"&gt;And that's it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-4261477642000825329?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4261477642000825329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/4261477642000825329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2009/01/2008-in-summation.html' title='2008 in Summation'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SVzxq4wXFTI/AAAAAAAAAU4/DmqgdoB8NfA/s72-c/108_1729.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-5831427158461746406</id><published>2008-12-28T09:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T09:46:14.401-07:00</updated><title type='text'>We Shall Rebuild.</title><content type='html'>Well, all was lost in the Great Accidental Blog Deletion of 2008.  But I do plan to rebuild.  I'm sad that some really decent posts will be lost forever - I mourn those fallen souls - but, hopefully, even greater ones will rise in their place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, I've put up a cheery background to tide us over until more detailed posts are written.  Soon, my friends.  Soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-5831427158461746406?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5831427158461746406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/5831427158461746406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2008/12/we-shall-rebuild.html' title='We Shall Rebuild.'/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-415646880483869404.post-7402938743528933585</id><published>2008-12-22T18:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T18:29:38.863-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Made a mistake and deleted ALL my stuff!!!  Nooooo! If anybody knows a way to retrieve my old stuff - please let me know!    :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/415646880483869404-7402938743528933585?l=bessiebrannan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7402938743528933585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/415646880483869404/posts/default/7402938743528933585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bessiebrannan.blogspot.com/2008/12/made-mistake-and-deleted-all-my-stuff.html' title=''/><author><name>Jessie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14956837871508240799</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='29' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_cVgEul6BbYg/SKsQ2_XokyI/AAAAAAAAAL0/W0i1QflTSc0/S220/n193303820_31868168_1621.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
