tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35251568832934982662024-03-13T12:49:17.345-05:00Rantings of a Simple WomanSharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.comBlogger435125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-19020471013394231992017-07-21T15:42:00.000-05:002017-07-21T15:45:35.363-05:00Exaggeration<span style="font-size: large;">Back in 1975, I was newly married, and lived on the back roads of Louisiana, in a small community. I was a very impressionable girl of 16, and I am going to recount to you an occasion, which to this day makes my heart shout with joy and laughter. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was a family that lived right down the road from us. A lovely family of 7, five children, of which one of them was a male species, the likes of which my eyes had never dreamed she would behold. He was tall in stature, far taller than most his age, built like a Greek God, and my imagination could only guess at what was hidden from the view of my eyes. He had a crowning glory of hair that would shame most women. I could barely take my eyes off of his shining locks. The rays of the sun bounced off of his crowning glory over and over again, as though it couldn't get enough of touching them. Oh how I wished my hands could be the rays of sunlight! I was watching from the veil of my window, finally tearing my eyes away from the top of his beautiful head. My eyes finally reached just below his waist, they were in such disbelief as to what they discovered. I had to close my eyes and shake my head to clear the vision, and look again, to be sure I was truly experiencing such a freak of nature. What I discovered at the the waistline of this gorgeous specimen was an animal of proportions I had never seen before. A sheep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Disclaimer: People reading this will not get the joke....but one person will....Much love to the person who will. You are an awesome friend!</i></span>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-26421362246063223352017-06-26T14:50:00.000-05:002017-06-26T14:50:42.031-05:00Time stands still for no one!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Whoah! It's been almost five years since I last posted. Amazing! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Someone suggested that I start blogging again. Not sure they suggested it because they miss my wit, or if they just want me to do something constructive with my idle time. I'm going to go with the wit.... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I read an article today that said that most writers do not know what they intend to write when they sit down to keyboard. I'm afraid that has been my problem these last few years. I have not had anything to write about. That goes for today, as well. I'm winging this, and praying something comes to mind, as not to bore anyone laying their eyes upon this post. This article that I read also mentioned that writing is a way of thinking about something twice. In your mind and then in your words. I thought that was very profound. These days, thinking is what I do a lot of....the writing part is what is missing. I'm thinking of all this wisdom that is going unrecorded. I need to go to confession for that miserable sin, along with a few others. (OK...I'm not writing about the "few others", just yet!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I miss the days, where if you wrote something, someone in the community of journalers/bloggers would actually read your writing. That was something that always spurred me on...knowing someone was reading my profundity or lack thereof. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I remember the first time that I realized someone was actually reading what I wrote and commented. I was like...Oh My Gosh....they just created a monster!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That monster has been silent for way too long. Hopefully this will become something I do more often....even if no one reads it!</span>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-42885729119957647482012-12-28T12:34:00.001-06:002012-12-28T15:35:32.765-06:00Men's and gyms<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My grandmother once told me that she may look old on the outside but on the inside she still feels 18. I finally understood that statement when I found my hormones working overtime at the gym. Usually I'm oblivious to male testosterone but I guess the 18 year old in me emerged! There I was minding my own business and I look up from my leg extenders and this is facing me. What to do? What to do? Keep dreaming. Actually young men don't interest me but this guy is a sweetheart and he'd probably get a kick out of this mature woman getting pics on the sly. I truly took it because I knew my daughter would love to see it. :)</span><br />
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Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-3525792833298640892012-12-22T18:52:00.001-06:002012-12-22T18:52:22.103-06:00In bed with the son in lawMy grandson asked me if I liked his Big Daddy, who is his stepdad and my son in law. We get along well enough but there are some things I don't agree with so we really don't have much to say to each other. I guess my grandson, in all of his wisdom, noticed our lack of repartee. He decided to inquire about this little thing he noticed. The conversation went like this:<br />
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Matthew "Nammy do you like my Big Daddy?"<br />
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Me (not wanting to lie and buying time). Why do you ask?<br />
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Matthew "because y'all never talk"<br />
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Me (quick on my toes and not wanting to lie). Well, Matthew, Big Daddy goes straight to bed to watch tv when I am here so in order to talk to him I'd have to climb in bed with him!"<br />
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He got the biggest chuckle out of that idea while realizing the truth of it and I was saved from lying to my grandson. Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-53085944945773102202012-12-21T12:52:00.002-06:002012-12-21T12:52:57.473-06:00Walgreens and Angels<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today I was at my local Walgreens and was stooping to the
lowest level to grab an item <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when I
heard a booming voice make a statement about Nancy “Botox” Pelosi and a few
other choice statements. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He proceeded to
Bless America and a few others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was chuckling out loud when he rounded the
corner and saw me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess my halo was
showing and he found the need to explain himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said that the pharmacist and he were good
friends and in a prayer group together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
said they <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>wouldn’t<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>talk about worldly things and he explained
that sometimes it got tiring to be so holy .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He continued <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to inform me that
what I was witnessing was his swerve to things unholy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It put the biggest smile on my face because
unbeknownst to him he was speaking to someone who understood the need to walk
on the dark side every now and then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was so infectious
and a bubble of joy leapt <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from my
heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked me down the aisle to
the register wishing me a very Merry Christmas!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes the smallest thing can make your day so where ever you are try to notice
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God in others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s there even when it doesn’t appear as
though that is what you are seeing. God visits you in the most unlikely of places. :))</span></div>
Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-28114250572493283972012-12-20T14:16:00.000-06:002012-12-20T14:16:07.299-06:00Cigars and Martinis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For 3 days I spent an enormous amount of company time (stealing in God's eyes) searching for a Christmas gift for the prince I mentioned in one of my previous entries. Do you guys know how hard it is to come up with an idea for princes that you barely know and within a budget of zilch? I was on a mission and asked a male friend for ideas. That was probably my first mistake because in all his maleness he said to ask leading questions to find out information. So I knew he smoked cigars because of a picture I had seen. Of course, I know zilch about cigars or brands. So, I, with the most innocent of intentions did just that...made a statement with the intent of finding information on his favorite brand. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">In a text, me: "a good cigar and martini"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Him: "would you like to come to my place?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Me: "ummm....."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Not exactly the way I expected that conversation to go....or any of the conversation thereafter. My conclusion? Never listen to male friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I did eventually find out the brand of cigar in a totally different way....by point blank asking. Go figure!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">No matter what...find a way to smile...it improves face value...</span><br />
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<br />Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-17223639586174535002012-12-19T08:26:00.001-06:002012-12-19T08:26:59.638-06:00Bless me Father<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This morning it was on my heart to go to confession.<br />
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Bless me Father for I have sinned etc etc. I'm baring my soul and making a heartfelt confession about my irritation with everyone, when I look thru the grill (that's not what it's called but that's what it reminds me of) and I notice the priest has the audacity to be yawning. I'm thinking to myself...Father you're irritating me! <br />
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I'm sure my soul is pretty clean if even a priest is yawning....Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-87726215357621800082012-12-04T12:44:00.000-06:002012-12-04T12:44:38.807-06:00Viva La Juicy ala Kermit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Nothing like a little Viva La Juicy to get the creative juices flowing again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">How many frogs have I kissed? Enough to have a perpetual wart infestation. Here are a few examples of the frogs I have encountered recently.....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Mr. Geese Frog</strong>. I was invited by <strong>Mr. Geese Frog</strong> to shoot a game or two of pool. I love to shoot and I was bored and feeling very competitive. I arrived to a man slunk up against the bar as though he is a permanent fixture to the bar stool. We proceed to do what most first timers do. (no not that!) We size each other up and say yeah or nay. Nay came loud and proud in the forefront of my mind and basically at the end of the day, it is MY nay that is the only one that counts. As the evening went on, I realized that the first impression would be reiterated several times during the course of the "meeting". We are sitting at the bar having our first drink when he informs me that the woman who served the drink was his ex wife. Wow...just what I always wanted in life. The ex wife of my "date" (I use that term very loosely) to serve me. Isn't that what dreams are made of? Seems they "owned" the bar together. Ummm...do you think this would have been something I should have known prior to the meeting? Finally after being scrutinized by the ex, we proceed to the only reason I agreed to the meeting... a game of pool. Part way thru the first game we get interrupted by someone I assume to be a customer. I see this exchange going on between the two of them and <strong>Mr. Geese Frog</strong> walks up to me and excuses himself with the following words that I, in my 54 years, thought I'd never hear, "Excuse me, I have to go corral my geese because they are disturbing the customers who are arriving." Huh? (imagine Scooby Doo) Do you guys see my jaw on the floor yet? Yes, that's where it dropped. (it may still be there too). Now I know you are asking yourself why in the hell didn't I see geese in the parking lot upon my entrance and get the hell out of there? There is something to be said about my ability to be oblivious to my surroundings...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Mr. I do have teeth but I fell and knocked them out Frog </strong> So where are they? Did you put them away until further need? You didn't think meeting me was an important enough time to gather them up and place them back on your gums? You did not think while eating, I would find it difficult to concentrate on learning all the lovely things you were spewing thru those gaps? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Mr. Let me slap you on the ass for good measure Frog </strong>Same guy as above. Yeah...it only got worse. I arrived back to my car to find that I had left it running the entire time I was enjoying the Grand Canyon. Perhaps I had a premonition that I would not want to take the time to start the car and get the hell out of Dodge?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Last but not least is the following. This guy may just be the one who cures me of ever doing the online dating thing again....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Mr. Sniff Doggie</strong> <strong>Frog. </strong>I arrive at <strong>Mr. Sniff Doggie Frog's</strong> home. Yes, I know that it is not a safe practice to meet someone in his home the first time. I've been burned doing this before, but even after the above experiences, I was feeling a bit lucky. I arrive and am met by the master of the home and Shark. Shark must be trained to sniff out all potential victims because when I arrived he immediately puts his nose in my crotch and then licks my toes. The jury is still out on the results of his thorough inspection. <strong>Mr. Sniff Doggie Frog</strong> was trying to curtail the sniffing of Shark while I was thinking back on my morning hygiene. Please tell me I didn't forget that part of my routine! Had I somehow, in my haste, accidentally grabbed my Scratch and Sniff rather than my Viva-La-Juicy? </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Mr. Sniff Doggie Frog</strong> finally succeeds in calling off Shark and then it happened! <strong>Mr. Sniff Doggie Frog </strong>smiles at me and there in his mouth are a full set of beautiful, white and shining choppers . The sort in which the American Dental Association would proudly display profiling what we strive for when we take care of our dental hygiene. I know that the brightness of his smile reflected in my eyes and caused my eyes to burn brighter than the sun. And now after all the frogs I've kissed in my life.....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">a <strong>prince</strong>.</span> </div>
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<br />Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-7188513311677192442011-01-27T13:27:00.000-06:002011-01-27T13:39:01.144-06:00It's been awhile...I'm enjoying my grandmotherly status so I haven't done anything inspiring enough (not that I ever did) to post and bore you.<br /><br /><br />I'm here to brag and show pics of all my children. My little Bailey Kate will be a year old next month and may I say she's a doll?<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXsc4_hr0yYHCcdh3phtYHIHFbKFDZrYJK8exaU7YmoXpezv-SPHhGr4Nb_Svt4SE50Rp0dOknSGsYlRKd3zg4GEGzUYfCX4T-MnA_0_9v-GkiAu3vWJNsXFAec8f8dRYgj4qIRA8BZA/s1600/meangels.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566951430222684370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXsc4_hr0yYHCcdh3phtYHIHFbKFDZrYJK8exaU7YmoXpezv-SPHhGr4Nb_Svt4SE50Rp0dOknSGsYlRKd3zg4GEGzUYfCX4T-MnA_0_9v-GkiAu3vWJNsXFAec8f8dRYgj4qIRA8BZA/s400/meangels.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2en61gB9Lauyaq1wOeJbwPrXg5QMyPETOGlKhmy5KiKby4TwTnyY22rC8o3TOk3SRcB2EZ3S9QY95W3KzCPXBo3_KwlUlCLMvbxy66E2jUpfd61OtE0nkMVu7DIsz4RS06hu9_b8WQs/s1600/mattsha.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566951292572636626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2en61gB9Lauyaq1wOeJbwPrXg5QMyPETOGlKhmy5KiKby4TwTnyY22rC8o3TOk3SRcB2EZ3S9QY95W3KzCPXBo3_KwlUlCLMvbxy66E2jUpfd61OtE0nkMVu7DIsz4RS06hu9_b8WQs/s400/mattsha.bmp" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5rfd9IkykqRu6pIUeteGfdRceUeThdjLB_asAfLGem_ZvLciS1B3uoaOnJXKslh_uVUsXOORRCkg8QLe1obK1pQ3iR9FsKttfeETPBbcixopWyKIgTkJRp7RYRn5zdmjw1rsoH6h51c/s1600/family.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 333px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566950990233689634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_5rfd9IkykqRu6pIUeteGfdRceUeThdjLB_asAfLGem_ZvLciS1B3uoaOnJXKslh_uVUsXOORRCkg8QLe1obK1pQ3iR9FsKttfeETPBbcixopWyKIgTkJRp7RYRn5zdmjw1rsoH6h51c/s400/family.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLR_y5LXWGCJJlZc8MQSbOmlI4DR3fF490R6B8UYQXBZm-kckyTVmHDzMoBrRbMcmGUlmVXBsonRxNm3TMlQHr0gKckQX9NKyrLRpgKKnzkfC8gqTd3aALb_q7YtiNL3COX-pTMW2q4w/s1600/bayhat1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566950761213092370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLR_y5LXWGCJJlZc8MQSbOmlI4DR3fF490R6B8UYQXBZm-kckyTVmHDzMoBrRbMcmGUlmVXBsonRxNm3TMlQHr0gKckQX9NKyrLRpgKKnzkfC8gqTd3aALb_q7YtiNL3COX-pTMW2q4w/s400/bayhat1.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PCBRbk2zzuKCjQOl4hfHhKmt7MpoBgxEWXwbU6KjD3XOeKUnpADQDOhLA9_B6qP48-DeYGUepBKNurSJFBWqzS4sZH1NJctXIPr5EWMQ6PtCuzNCjpELjI-KGFomVtWriIro4zalVWA/s1600/P8141430.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566950521052779938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0PCBRbk2zzuKCjQOl4hfHhKmt7MpoBgxEWXwbU6KjD3XOeKUnpADQDOhLA9_B6qP48-DeYGUepBKNurSJFBWqzS4sZH1NJctXIPr5EWMQ6PtCuzNCjpELjI-KGFomVtWriIro4zalVWA/s400/P8141430.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div></div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-40884117598515054312010-05-24T16:31:00.000-05:002010-05-24T16:36:08.039-05:00Driving Backwards<div align="center">Yesterday on the road traveling, my grandson to his mother: </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">"Mom, is that truck driving backwards?"</div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErwNGqIKh0OXWTmvFwbI9OUIpF8lZJ8Ac5NNthHmWMb2vag9fr-_aA39Bz6y8vNlOEu7k03RTVFNta9QMtVZwlFyCeNa4cVh99zE9faYVscKITLm06zvCvQI0M-i61FwaUbFB8rVusWs/s1600/truck.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474952887435505794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErwNGqIKh0OXWTmvFwbI9OUIpF8lZJ8Ac5NNthHmWMb2vag9fr-_aA39Bz6y8vNlOEu7k03RTVFNta9QMtVZwlFyCeNa4cVh99zE9faYVscKITLm06zvCvQI0M-i61FwaUbFB8rVusWs/s400/truck.bmp" /></a><br /><div> </div><div> </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-75157326732602307972010-05-19T15:10:00.000-05:002010-05-19T15:14:25.900-05:00A Captive Audience<div align="center">What a sweet big brother:</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghutf0QXRMSb4E-YoU6WJbmOnrgfqlX900oikfO625TI5_S8Sd-gdwXZXLqKkSwmrPj7IrVE6C2BAz7DDug2z9JrSBwzc6Md_BwhgMzN4vYIxnAhlBN0AyEz4jErWcVruNp70kqSJpCXU/s1600/guitar.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473076684308130050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghutf0QXRMSb4E-YoU6WJbmOnrgfqlX900oikfO625TI5_S8Sd-gdwXZXLqKkSwmrPj7IrVE6C2BAz7DDug2z9JrSBwzc6Md_BwhgMzN4vYIxnAhlBN0AyEz4jErWcVruNp70kqSJpCXU/s400/guitar.bmp" /></a><br /><div> </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-36947981181866185572010-04-23T09:13:00.000-05:002010-04-23T09:24:16.681-05:00A QuandaryAt the advanced age of 51, I have dated my share of men but last night was a first for me. Let me tell you, I have seen a lot of things, but a man who doesn't walk his date to the door? What? Did he think I was going to accost him at my doorsteps and have my way with him? Did he think I was going to drag him into my home and make him perform acts only known to other-worldly creatures? Or maybe the idea of having to kiss me goodnight gave him nightmares...whatever it was....<br /><br />I choose to believe it was because he enjoyed watching my backside as I walked to my door because he politely waited in his car until I unlocked my door and was safely inside...<br /><br />What a man!Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-29463294325640100622010-03-05T08:28:00.001-06:002010-03-05T09:20:17.337-06:00Bailey Kate is here!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCLaZdxX4XFMqCsYE3Paf688OzSL3Ryj2H6j4ySgKSNFSdFZ1sbNbIvllbYp0KqMuAvVANJJIpFHh2Xp6bZnviMLK7Q0X2r7ZxbKg43ZdZpodAoc-HefYfwlxSwCzTN_dMUhcqqvCrGY/s1600-h/baimatt.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445169880577008226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCLaZdxX4XFMqCsYE3Paf688OzSL3Ryj2H6j4ySgKSNFSdFZ1sbNbIvllbYp0KqMuAvVANJJIpFHh2Xp6bZnviMLK7Q0X2r7ZxbKg43ZdZpodAoc-HefYfwlxSwCzTN_dMUhcqqvCrGY/s400/baimatt.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBfunYW1P0Qu-9yssq0oFvP2H831kcwcHANbJSeswNP9QuG-GdbvWHcSSkLoaXoUOn-raR7hfQKjZtusKpztA7HClIgqqNL-WCBik2laAxPzNB01M0kp7tHj4xi8gKmsnhyttpcnoUs9o/s1600-h/baileykate.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445156661366888338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBfunYW1P0Qu-9yssq0oFvP2H831kcwcHANbJSeswNP9QuG-GdbvWHcSSkLoaXoUOn-raR7hfQKjZtusKpztA7HClIgqqNL-WCBik2laAxPzNB01M0kp7tHj4xi8gKmsnhyttpcnoUs9o/s400/baileykate.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-88265318511906756722010-02-08T10:31:00.000-06:002010-02-08T10:32:49.022-06:00Ummmmm.....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uOhV_t-L_BFhQCJUL-9p05nnPxDCU6Asgr4vGydPkUkDul9oUKjYnjDmJU16xLh-zNTTON0p3ZKFoFY68xRnbk9OxYWnCYKyffCekQGiesDAxqGFSrFxSW6zsv6dMB5SHCLZkE0itAg/s1600-h/new-orleans-saints-super-bowl-0d2ed39b84f84438.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 231px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435911405357054578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6uOhV_t-L_BFhQCJUL-9p05nnPxDCU6Asgr4vGydPkUkDul9oUKjYnjDmJU16xLh-zNTTON0p3ZKFoFY68xRnbk9OxYWnCYKyffCekQGiesDAxqGFSrFxSW6zsv6dMB5SHCLZkE0itAg/s400/new-orleans-saints-super-bowl-0d2ed39b84f84438.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-86160864723594236012010-02-05T11:28:00.001-06:002010-02-05T11:35:55.033-06:00Showing our Saints' Spirit<div align="center">To say I'm excited would be an understatement!</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVlYBqvJG9mBbeBwfJkwBOx6FpoIYtNZKBMiWQHZmJMydOwIw-P1rgbxaol6i8jvFRBVwEix-QTPLUEAIpg6fvFYTZU7kL-pWayX7926SwyjXlJ3M-pHd3P0g0GJvmhHe016T0Jf_qT8/s1600-h/wedat.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434812766146341794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxVlYBqvJG9mBbeBwfJkwBOx6FpoIYtNZKBMiWQHZmJMydOwIw-P1rgbxaol6i8jvFRBVwEix-QTPLUEAIpg6fvFYTZU7kL-pWayX7926SwyjXlJ3M-pHd3P0g0GJvmhHe016T0Jf_qT8/s400/wedat.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7T7Ur9S02rs8mS83yAExWH0Eat3E1haZmDDhcCwLKz_2_EwyBkjnEgxWBj9_Ve4JfVvGM_UFG-YhUHdf7mQMCLEjAEzjsjQ31h_DHea3s1_UFmtRk0rFZDvhf2ckZTUkW3DfLczXKUw/s1600-h/dede.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434813225055053410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE7T7Ur9S02rs8mS83yAExWH0Eat3E1haZmDDhcCwLKz_2_EwyBkjnEgxWBj9_Ve4JfVvGM_UFG-YhUHdf7mQMCLEjAEzjsjQ31h_DHea3s1_UFmtRk0rFZDvhf2ckZTUkW3DfLczXKUw/s400/dede.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9oaMjGeQfByu1pgYEyevLBTVxHjN4o_wxGGTRf_B0zoqAbeNHobZLNdQl7e2_uin3dphMvN3qqJz7x5-kju7ivYUi78JK5Y0L7H5VlPt3flbMuKHe9X_18Xj-RiKx4zAMrwNcllgTnYo/s1600-h/crew.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434813033524002338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9oaMjGeQfByu1pgYEyevLBTVxHjN4o_wxGGTRf_B0zoqAbeNHobZLNdQl7e2_uin3dphMvN3qqJz7x5-kju7ivYUi78JK5Y0L7H5VlPt3flbMuKHe9X_18Xj-RiKx4zAMrwNcllgTnYo/s400/crew.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-74272904044538239722009-11-24T21:21:00.000-06:002009-11-24T21:22:34.497-06:00A sneak peek at my granddaughter!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBK8Recs6FsKN9mn-LORedeV6A4kGLM84oTva0CkLqj_KolV_PQD1YkVQ4xSpRM_QLs3QZ2YpkMuaxFsZ_euAy1PzzhGJBxXfBv7LtTEinQmm_5EtuUTerJOwOFQH2PhQVkmLAqps2aQ/s1600/BABY+GIRL_14.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407876393329435346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBK8Recs6FsKN9mn-LORedeV6A4kGLM84oTva0CkLqj_KolV_PQD1YkVQ4xSpRM_QLs3QZ2YpkMuaxFsZ_euAy1PzzhGJBxXfBv7LtTEinQmm_5EtuUTerJOwOFQH2PhQVkmLAqps2aQ/s400/BABY+GIRL_14.JPG" /></a><br /><div></div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-58617617893163130842009-10-05T19:55:00.000-05:002009-10-05T21:53:58.282-05:00Ooh that smell....It all started with a smell...<br /><br /><br />No perhaps it started with the noises in the attic...<br /><br /><br />...or maybe an old friend that no one remembers?<br /><br />Last night I was rooting around my pantry to come up with a meal to cook for myself and with the limited amount of groceries I allow myself to keep on hand, that was a task not too many want to tackle. I, Little Miss Julia Child wannabe took the challenge and commenced rooting like a rat. I came up with Penne Pasta, Pesto and Fresh Frozen Shrimp.<br />Hmmm, I said..I think I can! I think I can! and yes I did!<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNh7LxM-urXjx1fIeJDSw38Wj6FK2cU6so6qYPlEA4GGAQEHmXaPIrujb5ban-Y2tNAbBlumEYOUdMuBRYOiBI5bwZQZGoiPoEz2lmrgZr9UzOwkMO5FefFRi5ENvgZgE0f1aEOga2zE/s1600-h/P1010017.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 286px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389294643281951714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNh7LxM-urXjx1fIeJDSw38Wj6FK2cU6so6qYPlEA4GGAQEHmXaPIrujb5ban-Y2tNAbBlumEYOUdMuBRYOiBI5bwZQZGoiPoEz2lmrgZr9UzOwkMO5FefFRi5ENvgZgE0f1aEOga2zE/s400/P1010017.JPG" /></a> We all know what shrimp peelings smell like after they've been sitting awhile? I placed mine in the garbage can in a plastic bag knowing that in the morning I would be discarding them outside in the garbage bin to be picked up by the trashman. This morning I awake to a deluge the likes of which God should be very proud! Since sugah melts, I could not bring my trash to the bin at the road so instead of leaving it in the house, I place it on my bbq pit on the patio, praying to the God that sent the monsoon not to allow any neighborhood cats to pimmage through it leaving a scattering of stinky shrimp shells. Driving under my carport, I continue my prayers and when I rounded the corner, my eyes lit upon the untouched garbage bag.<br /><br /><br />God is Good! Sometimes.<br /><br /><br />I hurry and dispose of all evidence.<br /><br /><br />Unlocking the door, I walk into my laundry room to a smell that would knock out Cassius Clay, Muhammad Ali and whatever other name he goes by. WTF? I'm thinking to myself Ali killed somebody with his "sting like bee" punch and left the dead body in my house to rot.<br /><br />Rewind to the previous night, I'm chatting on Facebook with an old friend of my brothers that I have no remembrance of ever knowing but he remembers me. hmmmm...time to rummage up an old yearbook, eh?<br /><br />I disregard the smell for awhile, pull down the ladder to my attic, and climb up, knowing full well I should never do that alone especially being of the advanced years that I am. My need to know the identity of my Facebook friend outweighs all caution. Up the ladder I go, and I turn on the light to the sounds of FLIES whirring around like helicopter blades. Whoosh! The smell hits me worst than any Muhammad punch. I rush down the ladder like a spring chicken, throw up the ladder, and shut the attic door, but too late! Out comes a swarm of flies battling each other to find residence on every piece of furniture.<br /><br />I have three flyswatters somewhere in this house! Count them...THREE. I cannot not find one of them! Why? Because I allowed my grandson to play with them at one point and I prayed to Allah, St. Anthony and all the Saints but still could not find a swatter to swat them flies!<br /><br />I headed to the local grocery store to purchase one and they had everything imaginable but a flyswatter but lo and behold they had a flystick. I will buy anything NOT to have to go to Walmart! So I purchase this lil invention and bring it home WITHOUT reading the directions thinking "how hard can it be?"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlygJP0uZvvyArTsqz412l8f-Wn0rnwJt5TW6H_C3xBR1uIjNQx2LX5LiT7Hz_n0ZVrkkpo58R6mf_q7V_HDcV54G2bupXcojjLcTXQmoIXMsdYmVz_684qPwPb8ymP8z2gvrKi41qDdQ/s1600-h/P1010019.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 191px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389301207530436658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlygJP0uZvvyArTsqz412l8f-Wn0rnwJt5TW6H_C3xBR1uIjNQx2LX5LiT7Hz_n0ZVrkkpo58R6mf_q7V_HDcV54G2bupXcojjLcTXQmoIXMsdYmVz_684qPwPb8ymP8z2gvrKi41qDdQ/s400/P1010019.JPG" /></a>I get home and proceed to read that you need syrup or honey to attract the damned flies to the stick. Refer to Paragraph One...I have limited groceries in my pantry, the least of which is honey or syrup. The flies are a buzzin' and Sharlene's a rooting in her pantry for something to attract them. My eyes finally come to rest upon a box of brown sugar. I started singing a Rolling Stones song (<span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Ah brown sugar how come you taste so good(a-ha) brown sugar, just like a young girl should A-huh</em></span>) as I made a mixture for the flystick.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfX6QSW-24eEXmV6arIo6fVehlisFOGCM9231T4Z8hC_JsE3zY90F_mSxEXLrkKHbtrOd8mdXrIwMLBVUvsBJfmalE5rfV5nbotmsieczN4NoX_-s09RrTA3fe90B8Ty7L-fWzl2YecDI/s1600-h/P1010020.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389305458347257378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfX6QSW-24eEXmV6arIo6fVehlisFOGCM9231T4Z8hC_JsE3zY90F_mSxEXLrkKHbtrOd8mdXrIwMLBVUvsBJfmalE5rfV5nbotmsieczN4NoX_-s09RrTA3fe90B8Ty7L-fWzl2YecDI/s400/P1010020.JPG" /></a>Well folks, there is one of the flies (Ali) does it look like it's on the stick?<br /><br />Didn't think so. </p><p>Guess who'll be catching flies tonight as she sleeps with her mouth wide open?</p>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-31691608452967070382009-09-16T14:58:00.001-05:002009-09-16T15:00:33.833-05:00My future grandchild...still in the oven....<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3j8kcpm3xY1-tvBRBDWwBolNiEzPY9IXM-aWopy_alFob4LrNmUi9u0iXE79sGG8IR9qZ-mPOjQbnaJOrwjQ1gtd1W6K8N1t8lHf6Qe9wS8eHJV1oqsejqstzt9bQDJ4Thr4ZnaOSktY/s1600-h/mybaby.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382157355344971650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3j8kcpm3xY1-tvBRBDWwBolNiEzPY9IXM-aWopy_alFob4LrNmUi9u0iXE79sGG8IR9qZ-mPOjQbnaJOrwjQ1gtd1W6K8N1t8lHf6Qe9wS8eHJV1oqsejqstzt9bQDJ4Thr4ZnaOSktY/s400/mybaby.bmp" /></a><br /><div></div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-47973936790833585912009-08-07T14:42:00.001-05:002009-08-07T14:42:26.675-05:00woooooooooooooooohoooooooooooooooooo!Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-6764400858900051902009-07-28T21:11:00.000-05:002009-07-28T21:12:40.030-05:00Wild Hairs<div align="center">You're supposed to get </div><div align="center">wild hairs up your ass but</div><div align="center"> I just plucked one off my chin!</div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-21562085384444968662009-07-21T20:19:00.000-05:002009-07-21T21:00:35.936-05:00Keith Urban<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSg835spynV_TSVUREPvy-UGC4pz8PgEWsVrEDHVXDPTlJFXCmZUQu9U5qxLVn4O65Z50SrfaQgXKykkxdQ0Iy-VyUajg3iJ4GVL_aAz1ieJ_igAT-zhSJ8zC6riPQwOg35c17lzsah8/s1600-h/100_7292.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361088728953436674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCSg835spynV_TSVUREPvy-UGC4pz8PgEWsVrEDHVXDPTlJFXCmZUQu9U5qxLVn4O65Z50SrfaQgXKykkxdQ0Iy-VyUajg3iJ4GVL_aAz1ieJ_igAT-zhSJ8zC6riPQwOg35c17lzsah8/s400/100_7292.jpg" /></a><br /><div>On 7/11/09, Keith Urban invited me to Dallas so he could perform for me. He is such a talented musician that I couldn’t imagine it being wasted on just myself so I graciously invited enough people to fill the American Airlines Arena. Brandi, her husband, and Matthew begged to come along so what could a mother do? After the concert, Keith wanted to take me home but I had to remind him that he had a wife and child. I know he hated the rejection but we all have to come to terms with things we can’t have. It was the 5th time he requested my presence and he was equally as good the 5th time as he was the 1st time! He really needs to stop stalking me…<br /><br />On a happier note, Brandi decided that I couldn't handle just Keith Urban so we woke to the sounds of "OMG OMG OMG" shouted loudly, at an ungodly hour, from the hotel bathroom. Her husband and I run into the bathroom to find my daughter, in all her glory, sitting on the toilet with a positive pregnancy test in her hand. Her husband says "what a romantic way to find out I'm gonna be a Dad again" Leave it to Brandi! </div><br /><div>A few pics of our weekend:<br /><br /></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiod9hQITjAxGVEl2JRqtNqKda4cdRAH_J6LrODQfl_aE-jw5HWP9rpLr7CPE0yX9rjsPjrqvjIjeeughvN_jEjN0ayTrnrMw8HIAVQ3TdDRN4uT8PRxTjuKbkBQMpva2aEFaZjafnZFNY/s1600-h/P1010007.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361090624078008338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiod9hQITjAxGVEl2JRqtNqKda4cdRAH_J6LrODQfl_aE-jw5HWP9rpLr7CPE0yX9rjsPjrqvjIjeeughvN_jEjN0ayTrnrMw8HIAVQ3TdDRN4uT8PRxTjuKbkBQMpva2aEFaZjafnZFNY/s400/P1010007.JPG" /></a></p><p>Doesn't she look happy? Matthew isn't too sure about it all...he knows his spoiled days are numbered! I don't know how to break it to the new baby but he'll always be my special one!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNBS9SLHfbQm7gnesBaVGSU9E1L2MWUiE3Oi50JsoKw3D1pZvOcPDZippJiyMA9JQQyAw-GNBlj0_uWBYwo2GlrX9OGvXSERGuTwLH1AEvbCxiD9RiDKZu7W4bVHAGVCtuiJQ5dRm40tA/s1600-h/P1010002.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361092756389268434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNBS9SLHfbQm7gnesBaVGSU9E1L2MWUiE3Oi50JsoKw3D1pZvOcPDZippJiyMA9JQQyAw-GNBlj0_uWBYwo2GlrX9OGvXSERGuTwLH1AEvbCxiD9RiDKZu7W4bVHAGVCtuiJQ5dRm40tA/s400/P1010002.JPG" /></a> </p><br /><p><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPH80TdyFmFABpjc3cZifS4ZvwBPYBjwk5V66d_PDQG0ZN8DiG_b66bw41WDWLEmrkUkwrpvYr1tqrLUN5wkfqc72JHvelLSK2p1dFqpvZMwR0uQdazg0bAoptSt8OK3gIsA4iZUCGqLk/s1600-h/100_7279.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361093338296362674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPH80TdyFmFABpjc3cZifS4ZvwBPYBjwk5V66d_PDQG0ZN8DiG_b66bw41WDWLEmrkUkwrpvYr1tqrLUN5wkfqc72JHvelLSK2p1dFqpvZMwR0uQdazg0bAoptSt8OK3gIsA4iZUCGqLk/s400/100_7279.jpg" /></a><br /></p><p>Come on Brandi, let's quit taking pictures and go...Keith is waiting for me!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0KSKd9rKTfft5_roDC40QQI17BwssyNnjSUozH9OKGqSDKVspii4EqkWq6RiWh3WJIlXdQhAIyief6GAhehxVfDjJ2hBG0KbtekDYftoYpasYEI9hPhjJjQwf_hfEO4u1zT5GMhD_fc/s1600-h/100_7280.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361094085118209330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0KSKd9rKTfft5_roDC40QQI17BwssyNnjSUozH9OKGqSDKVspii4EqkWq6RiWh3WJIlXdQhAIyief6GAhehxVfDjJ2hBG0KbtekDYftoYpasYEI9hPhjJjQwf_hfEO4u1zT5GMhD_fc/s400/100_7280.jpg" /></a><br /></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Look at that glow on her face!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissM05EH13V6kNJvzqvJ6pIvrk260sWn1zfUTNf_JY2FXxbJElc_6E7HXyEyiOakhEhD_BE44jI94wh_U8wR-vFczOYul6p0zhr8teN3hLBYh0CXogKWQ6Ur0T54wefBpCuJtBKoJasY4/s1600-h/P1010010.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361095181708533074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissM05EH13V6kNJvzqvJ6pIvrk260sWn1zfUTNf_JY2FXxbJElc_6E7HXyEyiOakhEhD_BE44jI94wh_U8wR-vFczOYul6p0zhr8teN3hLBYh0CXogKWQ6Ur0T54wefBpCuJtBKoJasY4/s400/P1010010.JPG" /></a><br /><br />He was so excited to see me he turned all the stage lights on when I arrived!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprthIf69NpXCCxee2ggt0DTEBrgEljmB_SuJjAxp0DFMHuLpGtld2vhggYEEcwk48Nrb3NUlyhmMZ0fOaQ85TOKttXCIcF3Mm3WToQQQ5SMUCmIJibtUY2cCp64nQcHsi2AwhXQEkeHk/s1600-h/P1010016.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361095636106434402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprthIf69NpXCCxee2ggt0DTEBrgEljmB_SuJjAxp0DFMHuLpGtld2vhggYEEcwk48Nrb3NUlyhmMZ0fOaQ85TOKttXCIcF3Mm3WToQQQ5SMUCmIJibtUY2cCp64nQcHsi2AwhXQEkeHk/s400/P1010016.JPG" /></a><br /></p><br /><br />Look at me way up front...He's singing "Kiss a<br />Girl" to me...Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-63131353116002267782009-07-16T21:45:00.000-05:002009-07-16T21:47:17.465-05:00UpdateI guess I need to update everyone on what's going on in my life....<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />...........so that's about it.Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-33633856073225426842009-07-04T09:06:00.000-05:002009-07-04T09:12:45.305-05:004th of July<div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;">HAPPY SPARKS TO YOU ALL! </span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;">I'M GOING TO SET OFF A FEW SPARKS OF MY OWN. </span></div><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><br /><div align="center">DETAILS TO FOLLOW! LOL<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuLb3ADOzVsw8O3zKb68fkVUjyNdtV6TtUbBoWtzAyYcH0ch7cmiIdrdt_OBBSdHg-GONbWYKveb9sPIsdx90qGcngNcB_xCF4m0EqNaym84Sf9UejfHshyphenhyphen9sbj2GuRw3mXKTrmUcasA/s1600-h/firework2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 380px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 322px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354606974375715218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuLb3ADOzVsw8O3zKb68fkVUjyNdtV6TtUbBoWtzAyYcH0ch7cmiIdrdt_OBBSdHg-GONbWYKveb9sPIsdx90qGcngNcB_xCF4m0EqNaym84Sf9UejfHshyphenhyphen9sbj2GuRw3mXKTrmUcasA/s400/firework2.jpg" /></a>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-20119834139818531362009-06-06T22:00:00.000-05:002009-06-06T22:03:17.527-05:00Thoughts<span style="font-size:130%;">I've given a lot of thought to writing this entry</span> .....<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">....and decided not to....</span>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3525156883293498266.post-5300707067170059522009-03-27T14:51:00.001-05:002009-03-27T15:01:48.148-05:00Digital Billboards<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxofX-fDDK9iChXLnrSF8apFJ4L0iQD96zx92LbYfFP5mqKCozi8LxfVy74U5cQEYVJMoDK7j6NIVqeFGw0mLhYM5oRtTQsvcfgypS3Abx0TQg-rEt156M9NlPzpjNG96JxLOcwRAzP_8/s1600-h/digital.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317957607396867490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 183px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxofX-fDDK9iChXLnrSF8apFJ4L0iQD96zx92LbYfFP5mqKCozi8LxfVy74U5cQEYVJMoDK7j6NIVqeFGw0mLhYM5oRtTQsvcfgypS3Abx0TQg-rEt156M9NlPzpjNG96JxLOcwRAzP_8/s400/digital.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I can't believe I'm admitting to this but I went into convulsive laughter at myself when I was reading a digital billboard and no matter how many times I pressed my steering wheel, it would NOT go back to the previous screen so that I could read it. <strong> YES, I did that!</strong> That's the price we pay in the computer age where the arrow keys will allow you to return to the previous screen and TIVO/DVR allows you to go back as well. </div><div> </div><div>If anyone else has ever attempted to do that, please let me know that I'm not the only nutcase! </div>Sharlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06537109883977796076noreply@blogger.com3