<?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-9418425</id><updated>2011-10-04T23:28:57.761-04:00</updated><title type='text'>occasional melancholia</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>331</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-4358050591643643543</id><published>2011-01-07T04:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T04:33:44.122-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wow, what a rough night. Hardest conversation I've ever had in my life, seriously.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-4358050591643643543?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/4358050591643643543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=4358050591643643543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4358050591643643543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4358050591643643543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2011/01/wow-what-rough-night.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-1253641235843648355</id><published>2010-10-22T18:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T18:51:00.896-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If you look closely enough, you can see the cracks. No one does though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-1253641235843648355?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/1253641235843648355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=1253641235843648355' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/1253641235843648355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/1253641235843648355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2010/10/if-you-look-closely-enough-you-can-see.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-3525589438270326664</id><published>2010-06-23T17:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-23T17:15:12.796-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay, &lt;a href="http://www.barrypetersen.com/index.htm"&gt;this story &lt;/a&gt;on CBS Sunday Morning made me cry. Even now, typing this blog post, I'm all teary over it. Hit way too close to home, on Father's Day no less. I'm glad that Larry died before she forgot who he was, it would have broken his heart and killed him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-3525589438270326664?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/3525589438270326664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=3525589438270326664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/3525589438270326664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/3525589438270326664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2010/06/okay-this-story-on-cbs-sunday-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-5416571619389072861</id><published>2010-04-25T16:57:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-25T16:58:45.054-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Got pretty sad last night after looking through pics and realizing that my mom doesn't even realize/remember that her husband is gone. That really fucking sucks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May 8th would have been his 63rd birthday and their 23rd anniversary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-5416571619389072861?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/5416571619389072861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=5416571619389072861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/5416571619389072861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/5416571619389072861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2010/04/got-pretty-sad-last-night-after-looking.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-1669124658026399465</id><published>2010-03-16T13:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T13:13:04.164-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I take it all back, fuck everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-1669124658026399465?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/1669124658026399465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=1669124658026399465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/1669124658026399465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/1669124658026399465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-take-it-all-back-fuck-everything.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-4111114594762798600</id><published>2010-03-11T16:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T16:59:47.591-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know why I never update this thing. Remember how much I used to love it? And now I hardly even look at it. I try, ish. I might try to try harder but that doesn't seem likely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, work is good. Crazy busy and frustrating most of the time but I get paid well, like the people I work with and my boss is awesome so I shouldn't complain too much. Home stuff is good, the kids are semi-settled, Brian is amazing as always. Money stuff isn't too stressful at the moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should come out to see Brian's band play in Plain City on April 3rd. It's gonna be a drunkfest!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I remember why I don't update...it's because I'm boring and have nothing to say. My bad!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-4111114594762798600?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/4111114594762798600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=4111114594762798600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4111114594762798600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4111114594762798600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-dont-know-why-i-never-update-this.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-659031171076992958</id><published>2009-09-04T09:08:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T09:17:30.325-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy anniversary to me!!! Five years today and I love him more than ever. I wish he knew how amazing he really is but maybe that makes me love him even more :) Tonight we're going to &lt;a href="http://www.mitchellssteakhouse.com/"&gt;Mitchell's Steakhouse&lt;/a&gt; for dinner, going to the &lt;a href="http://www.waterfirecolumbus.com/"&gt;Waterfire exhibit&lt;/a&gt; afterwards, and spending the night in a suite at the Trueman Club Hotel downtown. It's going to be amazing, perfect weather for walking around downtown holding hands with my incredible husband who planned this wonderful night. Sigh, can't wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-659031171076992958?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/659031171076992958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=659031171076992958' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/659031171076992958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/659031171076992958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/09/happy-anniversary-to-me-five-years.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-6752480884087149509</id><published>2009-08-12T12:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T12:24:05.999-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;!--57.14 51.22 61.76 60.53--&gt; &lt;table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" bgcolor="#dddddd"&gt; &lt;tr&gt; &lt;td width="250"&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;font color="black"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://similarminds.com/jung/intj.html"&gt;INTJ&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt; -  "Mastermind". Introverted intellectual with a preference for finding certainty. A builder of systems and the applier of theoretical models. 2.1% of total population. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/td&gt; &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/table&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took this "test" forever ago but couldn't remember my answer. Not sure why it matters but I met some girl last month who had an INTJ necklace on and it reminded me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-6752480884087149509?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/6752480884087149509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=6752480884087149509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/6752480884087149509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/6752480884087149509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/08/intj-mastermind.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-4954853093922525679</id><published>2009-07-16T09:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T09:31:16.923-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>News: back in February, my uncle was diagnosed with cancer. He had a tumor in his throat that prevented him from swallowing and dropped to about 95 pounds. He received chemo and radiation treatments but the cancer kept spreading. Two weeks ago, his doctor said that there was nothing else that they could do and gave him six months to live. On Tuesday, July 7th, he passed away. I know it's supposed to be a relief when someone so sick dies, but he was one of my favorite people in the whole world and I miss him. You know that person who loves you and supports you and always sees the good in you no matter what? He was mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other news: my parents have moved back home to Colorado. I flew out with them on Saturday, 4 days too late to get to see my uncle. My mother's dementia is getting very, very bad and my stepfather was given 12 months to live by his doctor. So they wanted to get home while they could and will be staying with one of my aunts as long as she can handle caring for them. It's sad but I'm happy for them that they get to be home where they want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tired...got back to Ohio on Tuesday at like 5:30 pm, ate dinner, took a nap and then took Casey and some of her friends to the midnight showing of the new Harry Potter movie. We got home at 3:30 am, it was freakin' crazy! Good movie though, and we had fun. I slept all day yesterday - right on! And now life should get back to somewhat normal. I hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-4954853093922525679?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/4954853093922525679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=4954853093922525679' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4954853093922525679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4954853093922525679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/07/news-back-in-february-my-uncle-was.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-8113506251917796116</id><published>2009-05-08T21:37:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T21:38:29.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>fuck you for trying to guilt me into being a "good daughter". you have no clue, you have no right. ya'll fuckers are lucky I even speak to any of you. not that it's such a treat to talk to me :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-8113506251917796116?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/8113506251917796116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=8113506251917796116' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/8113506251917796116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/8113506251917796116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/05/fuck-you-for-trying-to-guilt-me-into.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-2140814706417299636</id><published>2009-04-18T08:04:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T08:04:42.688-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I think he likes to be the guy that fixes broken girls. But once the girl isn't broken anymore, then what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-2140814706417299636?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/2140814706417299636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=2140814706417299636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/2140814706417299636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/2140814706417299636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-think-he-likes-to-be-guy-that-fixes.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-32783064952198178</id><published>2009-04-06T18:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T18:26:02.637-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>because even though I haven't washed my hair today and it's pulled back into a messy ponytail and I look like I've been crying all day because I have been crying all day and I'm wearing an oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, you still say I'm beautiful...and you mean it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-32783064952198178?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/32783064952198178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=32783064952198178' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/32783064952198178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/32783064952198178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/04/because-even-though-i-havent-washed-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-8289765940501197914</id><published>2009-03-28T19:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T19:16:33.458-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Last night, I dreamed that we had sex and I felt so guilty. I don't know why, I never know why. I also dreamed that you walked into the bathroom and saw me on the toilet, no idea what that means either.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm ready for warm weather, ready to spend Saturday evenings in the backyard with friends, drinking beers and listening to music, ready to spend Sunday mornings in the backyard just the two of us, drinking coffee and listening to music.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My uncle starts radiation treatment this week. So yeah. I hear from one of my aunts that he is doing okay, and that his attitude is good. Whatever that means.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Just finished watching &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0460791/"&gt;The Fall&lt;/a&gt;. It was incredible, one of the most beautiful movies I've seen. We started watching it last night and, as usual, I fell asleep. I had to finish watching it after Brian left to go play with Ian.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Work is going well, so much better since I got my boss to do what I wanted :) Not nearly as much stress as I have been having lately, which kicks ass.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We are dog-sitting for the kid this weekend, it's been a breeze! She sure did get a great dog, and he's awfully cute. One of the dogs has gas though, I'm not sure which.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-8289765940501197914?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/8289765940501197914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=8289765940501197914' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/8289765940501197914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/8289765940501197914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/03/last-night-i-dreamed-that-we-had-sex.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-4547018681557055732</id><published>2009-03-02T09:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T09:42:35.394-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Update on my uncle: He is out of the hospital, and having to be fed through a tube in his stomach. He is down to 95 lbs. The Chemo treatments did not work so they are going to do radiation treatments, but first they have to pull all of his teeth. We have doctor appointments this coming week and will see what we are going to do from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuck. me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-4547018681557055732?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/4547018681557055732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=4547018681557055732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4547018681557055732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4547018681557055732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/03/update-on-my-uncle-he-is-out-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-7088496491272293220</id><published>2009-02-18T20:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T20:20:27.505-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>so yeah, my uncle has cancer. and my best friend's dad has cancer, he thinks. more tests for him later this month so keep your fingers crossed for good news. our news isn't so good, the prognosis for my uncle sounds very grim: no possibility of curing it, the best the docs hope for is to make him comfortable. fuck. I won't see him again before he dies, because I can't bear to go home to deal with everyone else. I hate that, because he was always so awesome to me. but I just can't...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-7088496491272293220?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/7088496491272293220/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=7088496491272293220' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/7088496491272293220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/7088496491272293220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/02/so-yeah-my-uncle-has-cancer.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-7998398540269189228</id><published>2009-02-06T13:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T14:04:26.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>fuck cancer. fuck good people getting sick while bad people just keep living their twisted lives. fuck having such a heavy, broken heart today :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-7998398540269189228?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/7998398540269189228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=7998398540269189228' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/7998398540269189228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/7998398540269189228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/02/fuck-cancer.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-6048605195205738194</id><published>2009-02-01T10:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T10:09:42.532-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I hate this feeling, this funk that I get in where I'm bored with everything, sick of everyone and just want to scream to shake things up. It never ends well...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-6048605195205738194?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/6048605195205738194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=6048605195205738194' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/6048605195205738194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/6048605195205738194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-hate-this-feeling-this-funk-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-8803135624638308531</id><published>2009-01-28T21:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T21:30:00.517-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes I can't stand myself. I have to admit, I used to feel that way all the time but it's been a rare feeling lately, which has been very cool. But I still do stupid things, stupid selfish things that I don't even want to do half the time. I don't know why. I do know that I need to stop, because I like liking me and my life. So yeah...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-8803135624638308531?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/8803135624638308531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=8803135624638308531' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/8803135624638308531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/8803135624638308531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/01/sometimes-i-cant-stand-myself.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-5128190520437013129</id><published>2009-01-19T12:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T12:29:34.569-05:00</updated><title type='text'>10th anniversary?!</title><content type='html'>PowerPuff Girls have been on for ten years? That is just freakin' crazy! Cartoon Network has a cute little marathon on right now, hell yeah we're watching it :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-5128190520437013129?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/5128190520437013129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=5128190520437013129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/5128190520437013129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/5128190520437013129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/01/10th-anniversary.html' title='10th anniversary?!'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-1397282633128582590</id><published>2009-01-11T17:50:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T17:51:16.247-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm extremely disinterested in almost everything right now, except for the one thing that I apparently can't have. Figures...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-1397282633128582590?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/1397282633128582590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=1397282633128582590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/1397282633128582590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/1397282633128582590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-extremely-disinterested-in-almost.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-857829198912109003</id><published>2009-01-11T10:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T10:41:53.905-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ups and downs</title><content type='html'>I'm tired. I've been working like crazy and it's been so stressful. Ready for a break now!!! Other things aren't going so well either, but I know they'll get better soon. Staying positive, I think that's the key.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - Go Eagles!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-857829198912109003?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/857829198912109003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=857829198912109003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/857829198912109003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/857829198912109003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2009/01/ups-and-downs.html' title='ups and downs'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-568319157623518820</id><published>2008-12-13T00:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T00:17:08.515-05:00</updated><title type='text'>seriously?</title><content type='html'>I do get it, karma. Even if you think I'm not paying attention, I really am, so you can back the fuck off. Dammit, we are so screwed right now...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-568319157623518820?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/568319157623518820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=568319157623518820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/568319157623518820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/568319157623518820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/12/seriously.html' title='seriously?'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-1033674953270686444</id><published>2008-11-21T21:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T21:06:51.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Thursday was awesome: started out great, made it to work on time. I looked cute, my outfit was very stylish according to Brian and my hair looked good too. Had a yummy potluck for my friend's birthday, she loved her gift from me - very cool. Got some fun texts, worked out (yay!) and came home to my sexy husband and the girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today...not quite as awesome, but still not bad. It was pretty boring at work, although we did entertain ourselves quite nicely with Hannah's bunny suicide books. I love those stupid things! Tomorrow I start my job at Target, that should be fun! And then I'm hanging out with my sister, doing some crafty shopping and then we're drinking beers and playing pool with our sexy husbands - should be more fun! I'm working again on Sunday, eight hours, and that will pretty much be my weekend. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, sometimes I even bore myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-1033674953270686444?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/1033674953270686444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=1033674953270686444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/1033674953270686444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/1033674953270686444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/11/thursday-was-awesome-started-out-great.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-998069072137312051</id><published>2008-11-19T09:13:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T09:19:46.271-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So yeah, he didn't talk to her. I know...I said I was going to let it go, but everyone knew I was lying, right? And now my eyes are all puffy from crying, which I forgot to mention on twitter. I'm super tired from staying up late talking. I'm disappointed and a little disillusioned, but I guess this is why we aren't supposed to put people on pedestals. No one is perfect, I should know that better than anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not going to be a good day. Oh well, there's always tomorrow ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-998069072137312051?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/998069072137312051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=998069072137312051' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/998069072137312051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/998069072137312051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/11/so-yeah-he-didnt-talk-to-her.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-4938081218892174875</id><published>2008-11-14T10:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T10:44:25.880-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Three weeks tomorrow...I don't know why I'm counting, but that's some bullsh!t. Not that I'm surprised really, but whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - I'm boring. Sorry about that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-4938081218892174875?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/4938081218892174875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=4938081218892174875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4938081218892174875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4938081218892174875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/11/three-weeks-tomorrow_14.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-4916040221382194795</id><published>2008-11-12T12:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T12:41:13.574-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So yeah, I got that job. No biggie, I expected to get it. Not to sound too conceited but I'm old and am willing to work weekends, I have a ton of customer service experience and I know how to talk a lot of shit. Didn't go over well at home, but I knew that was going to happen. Still, not cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone know how good my discount will be?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-4916040221382194795?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/4916040221382194795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=4916040221382194795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4916040221382194795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/4916040221382194795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/11/so-yeah-i-got-that-job.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-5904209171453235784</id><published>2008-11-08T17:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T20:54:25.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm trying to get a part-time job, cashiering at Target on the weekends - how funny is that? To catch up on some bills and have some extra money for x-mas and save up for a trip to one of the Carolinas (can't remember which) this summer. I'm so sick of stressing about money all the time. No one tell Brian though, I don't think he'll be happy about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-5904209171453235784?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/5904209171453235784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=5904209171453235784' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/5904209171453235784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/5904209171453235784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/11/im-trying-to-get-part-time-job.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-6782852050931968457</id><published>2008-11-07T17:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T20:26:21.848-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid story</title><content type='html'>So yeah, we were drinking in the back yard with my sister on your birthday and some of Brian's work peeps showed up. One of them was this chick who likes Brian, big time. She's always telling me how great he is and on myspace and stuff she's always saying how sexy he is. I always thought it was harmless though and I'm not really the uptight, jealous type. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all drinking, and having a good time. That chick was sitting beside me and she was trashed. I got up to go to the bathroom a couple of times (big surprise) and the last time, I came back, sat down and she started laughing. Out of nowhere, it was weird. I asked her what was so funny and she said that she shouldn't tell me. So I said, it's okay, tell me what's so funny and she said, "I kissed your husband while you were in the bathroom." WTF?! Then she said that she wanted to do it again. I seriously didn't know what to do or say.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I trust Brian. Trust him completely, I know he would never cheat on me or do anything to hurt me. So that's not the problem. After everyone left, we went to bed and I asked him about it. He said that it was weird, that it made him really uncomfortable. Since we were both drunk I decided to let it go. The next day I asked him about it again, asked him to tell me what happened. He said that she just walked up to him and started kissing him. He said that at first he thought it was me, and when he remembered that I had just left, he pushed her away and that was the end of it. She went and sat back down and then I came out a few minutes later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked him if he would have told me what had happened if she hadn't. He said yes and I believe him. I told him that I didn't want us to hang out with her again and that I didn't want her to hang out at our house anymore. I asked him if he was going to talk to her about it and he said that he would. I believed that too. On Monday after work, I asked him if they had talked and he said no. That they didn't work together that day. So I let it go for a few days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time I asked him about it, I was on my way home from work and he said, I'll tell you later. So I waited...after dinner, nothing. All night, nothing. He didn't bring it up. When we went to bed, I couldn't wait anymore so I brought it up to him. He kinda' laughed and said, you'll think this is funny. Said that when he went up to her to tell her that he wanted to talk to her after work, she said Tell your wife hi for me. I just love her! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, like I would think that was funny. It really pissed me off, actually, because I felt like she was rubbing it in my face and being a bitch. So he didn't talk to her that day, and told me that he didn't think he was going to because "that's not how she usually acts." What-fucking-ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my gosh, I was so mad! I couldn't believe he was defending her to me and that he thought it was funny that she was being a two-faced bitch to me. I was upset that he didn't think he had to say anything to someone who hurt me and made me cry and did that to me in my own house. I got out of bed, couldn't get to sleep and just sat on the couch crying until about 2 &lt;br /&gt;o'clock in the morning. When I finally went to bed, he woke up and said that he was sorry and that he would talk to her the next day. I told him to do whatever he wanted and that if something like that ever happened again, I didn't want to know about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were tense between us the next day, I was still really hurt about the whole thing. I spent most of the day upset, sending long ranting texts to a friend, trying to decide whether I was being an irrational hypocrite or if I was allowed to be pissed off about it. We haven't talked about it since that night though. I have no idea whether he talked to her or not. But I decided that I don't care, that I'm not going to let it get to me anymore. I meant it when I said that I'd rather not know if something like that happens again. Because I do trust him, even if he's clueless and stupid about skanks. And even if he ever does cheat on me, I don't think I could handle knowing about it. Besides, I already know that I would forgive him if he did, so there would be no point in knowing that it happened, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn, that whole thing really sucked, I'm so glad that it's behind us. We're fine, back to normal. I don't know...it was very upsetting, even though it was actually nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-6782852050931968457?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/6782852050931968457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=6782852050931968457' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/6782852050931968457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/6782852050931968457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/11/stupid-story.html' title='Stupid story'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-749457110206263521</id><published>2008-11-01T17:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T17:59:39.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I guess I just expect too much. I'm sure it's hard to wrap your mind around my past and how fucked up I really am almost every minute of every day. I don't do normal things - I can't, and I have a million irrational fears that never leave me for a second. And when you say mean things to me, I honestly just want to curl up and cry but instead I act like I'm fine and you just keep on thinking I'm better. So I must be good at pretending I'm fine. Or you're just good at pretending that you don't notice when you hurt me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a fucking drink.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-749457110206263521?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/749457110206263521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=749457110206263521' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/749457110206263521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/749457110206263521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-guess-i-just-expect-too-much.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-6073906474056111401</id><published>2008-10-31T20:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T18:02:40.989-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>In my opinion, once a week is not enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-6073906474056111401?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/6073906474056111401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=6073906474056111401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/6073906474056111401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/6073906474056111401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/11/in-my-opinion-once-week-is-not-enough.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-987156942916931538</id><published>2008-10-30T19:39:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T19:44:30.123-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Seems like I had something to post about earlier, and now I have no idea what it was. Shit, whatever. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm sick...caught a stupid cold from Brian and I feel like crap. I just finished taking a two and a half hour nap. I heart naps, seriously. He's feeling much better though, which is very cool.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I like bullet-point posts, not sure why. It's lazy, but it takes up more space. Maybe that's it. I do enjoy being lazy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Is the election over yet? I'm so tired of all these political ads...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I just remembered what I was going to post about but I'll save it for next time. Someone remind me to tell the story of what happened on the night Hannah got home from Boston. Not good.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-987156942916931538?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/987156942916931538/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=987156942916931538' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/987156942916931538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/987156942916931538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/10/seems-like-i-had-something-to-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-304287256668158489</id><published>2008-10-12T17:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T17:53:54.703-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ugh.</title><content type='html'>Brian's stepmom just called, his dad hasn't been feeling well for a few days. She is taking him to the hospital to make sure it's not his heart, but of course it's his heart, what else would it be? Brian went over there to help get him and to be with him. I hate those calls, because there isn't much that can be done at this point...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-304287256668158489?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/304287256668158489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=304287256668158489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/304287256668158489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/304287256668158489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/10/ugh.html' title='ugh.'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-2635934705730506286</id><published>2008-10-08T20:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T21:01:15.886-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Another confession: I took pics of myself in some of my really cute bras for Brea$t Cancer awareness - yeah, right. Then I took some without one. No reason ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-2635934705730506286?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/2635934705730506286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=2635934705730506286' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/2635934705730506286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/2635934705730506286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/10/another-confession-i-took-pics-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-3437262082445292448</id><published>2008-09-06T13:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T13:32:34.700-04:00</updated><title type='text'>R.I.P Jordan</title><content type='html'>She will never, ever get over losing you like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-3437262082445292448?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/3437262082445292448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=3437262082445292448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/3437262082445292448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/3437262082445292448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/09/rip-jordan.html' title='R.I.P Jordan'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-7277299399386833079</id><published>2008-08-29T21:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T21:08:03.834-04:00</updated><title type='text'>idk</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love it when things are good, when you're happy and I'm happy and everyone we know is happy. Like right now, right at this very moment, everything is perfect. Yay!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I want to take pictures, of anything and nothing and everything and everyone. Soon, because I miss it, even though I'm sure it will suck. I'm out of practice and not used to my new camera so I guess I won't expect anything spectacular.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's weird posting here, it's been so fucking long. I'm not going to brag about it for a while, until there's something to brag about. Which means never. I don't know, I could try to write something real. Note to self: think of something real to write.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-7277299399386833079?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/7277299399386833079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=7277299399386833079' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/7277299399386833079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/7277299399386833079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/08/idk.html' title='idk'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-2563360126792055523</id><published>2008-08-26T19:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T19:59:41.729-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Confession: I have a "secret" blog where I write letters to an old boyfriend. Sometimes he writes back. Shhhhhhh, don't tell...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-2563360126792055523?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/2563360126792055523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=2563360126792055523' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/2563360126792055523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/2563360126792055523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2008/08/confession-i-have-secret-blog-where-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-116251330466259108</id><published>2006-11-02T19:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T19:21:44.716-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Okay, so the deal is my work has this thing called Websense that is blocking access to blogs all of a sudden. So I can't post from work anymore :( I did most of my posting from work so that's why I haven't updated in a while. That and my home laptop is almost literally hanging by a thread so I can't use that either. I don't like to access this blog from the family computer and I can't figure out how to email posts so for now, posting will be hit or miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;News:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car is broken. Sucks so much!!! Hopefully my brother can figure out what's wrong with it by this weekend.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We missed Halloween because Casey didn't feel good. No candy and no donations for Unicef.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hm, I guess that's about it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-116251330466259108?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/116251330466259108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=116251330466259108' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/116251330466259108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/116251330466259108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/11/okay-so-deal-is-my-work-has-this-thing.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115954365728375702</id><published>2006-09-29T11:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T11:27:37.326-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I know it's what I get paid for, but sometimes I am completely disgusted by how fake I am on the phone with customers. If some variation of the previous sentence ends up on Postsecret, it wasn't me :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115954365728375702?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115954365728375702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115954365728375702' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115954365728375702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115954365728375702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/09/i-know-its-what-i-get-paid-for-but.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115929150202625718</id><published>2006-09-26T12:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-26T13:25:02.130-04:00</updated><title type='text'>long time, no post.</title><content type='html'>I guess that's what happens when we don't have much going on. I do like the peace though, and I like not having too many surprises. Wow, don't I sound boring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian's dad did not have a stress test this past week. His cardiologist said no. So now he's taking some nitroglycerin pills, I'm not sure why. I mean, I know it's for his heart but I don't know anything more than that. He's doing well though, which is really all that matters since there's not a lot they can do for him anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls are doing well, school is going okay. I wish Hannah would apply herself a little more, but that is always true. We haven't really heard from the boy. He stopped by a week or so ago to pick up some of his things but he didn't say a word to me or to Brian. He talked to Casey when she talked to him so I was glad about that. Otherwise, I probably would have told him to leave and come back when he was done being a dick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out from Hannah that he burned all the pictures he took from the scrapbooks and picture frames and photo boxes. That sucked, so many of them were irreplaceable. I can't do anything about it now, other than be devastated everytime I see the big black scorch marks on the garage floor. But enough about that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casey got a hamster the weekend before last. He's really cute and tiny. His name is Larry the hamster, named after my stepdad who helped her pay for him and his stuff. We love him, he's so funny somehow. I guess because he's so small, whatever he does makes us laugh. He's been hours of fun so far :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not much else is new, just the way I like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115929150202625718?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115929150202625718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115929150202625718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115929150202625718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115929150202625718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/09/long-time-no-post.html' title='long time, no post.'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115833265502163813</id><published>2006-09-15T10:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T11:04:15.153-04:00</updated><title type='text'>news</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Brian's dad got out of the hospital Tuesday. We saw him that night and he looked fine. Good as new almost. He is going to have a stress next sometime next week, I hope that goes well. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hannah's senior pictures are back and they're beautiful. I can't believe how well they turned out. I already want to go back and order more!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Casey made dinner for us last night. How funny is that :) She made pork chops and green beans. Brian wasn't home, he had band practice so it was just me and the girls. It was really yummy and I hope she had fun. I guess she really didn't want leftovers!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fun plans this weekend: Going to a show in Lancaster tonight, staying at a hotel afterwards, birthday party for my niece tomorrow and a hog roast at the Eagles, and football on Sunday! Brian beat both of my fantasy teams last week. Boooooo!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115833265502163813?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115833265502163813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115833265502163813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115833265502163813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115833265502163813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/09/news_15.html' title='news'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115806768718760092</id><published>2006-09-12T08:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T09:28:07.363-04:00</updated><title type='text'>exhausted but relieved</title><content type='html'>We got a call from Brian's sister at just before 6:00 last night, telling us to get to the hospital right away because his dad was having a heart attack. He's had trouble with his heart before and it's really weak because of it so it's always extra terrifying when anything like this happens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to the hospital first, before the ambulance even. When his sister got there, she said that it didn't look good. That he was in more pain than she had ever seen before. A minute or two later, his stepmom arrived and told us what happened. When the ambulance arrived, Brian went over to see him and to let his dad know that he was there before he was rushed inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He looked terrible, you could instantly see how much pain he was in. But when they got him into a room and gave him some morphine, he was a lot better. The chest pains subsided and he started being really goofy from the drugs. For a while, no one could understand what he was saying but once the medicine started wearing off that got better. They ran a bunch of tests and couldn't find any evidence of a heart attack, but his doctor wanted him to stay overnight for observation. When we left, he was falling asleep, waiting to be admitted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a possibility that he might have to have surgery later to have a heart catheter put in but we're not sure yet. His cardiologist says that his heart is too weak for that unless it's absolutely necessary. And they're still not even sure if it was his heart. Hopefully we'll know more today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll take all the good wishes and positive thoughts anyone wants to send our way :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115806768718760092?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115806768718760092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115806768718760092' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115806768718760092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115806768718760092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/09/exhausted-but-relieved.html' title='exhausted but relieved'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115721920681547250</id><published>2006-09-02T13:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T13:46:47.006-04:00</updated><title type='text'>news</title><content type='html'>My mom got approved for her Social Security disability benefit! That is such excellent news. We just heard about it yesterday and I'm taking them to the Social Security office on Tuesday to get everything taken care of. I really am so happy about this, it means that they're going to have a lot fewer money worries, which is always a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We found out recently that our nephew/godson has &lt;a href="http://www.med.yale.edu/chldstdy/autism/pddnos.html"&gt;PDD/NOS&lt;/a&gt; which is a form of autism. It does explain a lot about his behavior and in some ways, it must be a relief for his parents to have this explanation. So he's on a special diet and will be starting preschool in November. Both of these are good things because his diet was pretty bad and unhealthy before. And interaction with children his own age is always good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Football season starts today. GO BUCKS! We're watching the game with friends. Should be fun :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115721920681547250?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115721920681547250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115721920681547250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115721920681547250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115721920681547250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/09/news.html' title='news'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115702727249316653</id><published>2006-08-31T08:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T08:27:52.513-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't know how to tell you things you don't want to hear so I usually don't. Because every time I do, you respond with that tone that makes me want to kill myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115702727249316653?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115702727249316653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115702727249316653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115702727249316653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115702727249316653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-dont-know-how-to-tell-you-things-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115696464848884002</id><published>2006-08-30T14:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T15:04:08.506-04:00</updated><title type='text'>notes to self</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's not smart to eat Cheetos while wearing a white shirt.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You're too old to giggle like a 13-year old boy when your iPod plays Pussy Control.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It's for his own good.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Why do I write these things? I never listen to me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115696464848884002?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115696464848884002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115696464848884002' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115696464848884002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115696464848884002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/notes-to-self.html' title='notes to self'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115695115979563357</id><published>2006-08-30T11:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T11:19:19.830-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I hate it when people conduct personal conversations at work that last for more than a minute. And I hate it that they don't try to keep it to themselves. I don't want to hear you bitching about your soon-to-be ex for ten fucking minutes. It's none of my business, I'm not interested in the slightest and I wish you would just the hell up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post is brought to you by a major lack of sleep and the number 8.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115695115979563357?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115695115979563357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115695115979563357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115695115979563357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115695115979563357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-hate-it-when-people-conduct-personal.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115689470349632545</id><published>2006-08-29T19:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T19:38:23.543-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fighting with the boy. Again.</title><content type='html'>So yeah...first he gets arrested a few weeks ago. For underage drinking again. We don't see him for a week because he was in the county lockup. He lost his job while he was there, wracked up more community service time and more court costs and fines. Since he got out, he's basically been sitting around the house playing computer games instead of doing any community service or finding a damn job. So this morning I told him to find a job or a new place to live by the end of the week. He doesn't say anything back. When I called home after school to talk to the girls, he answered the phone and hung up on me. I called again, talked to the girls, and he hung up again when I tried to talk to him. By the time I came home from work, he was already gone with a friend of his. Brian noticed that one of the picture frames above the desk was empty. It used to have a picture of him and Hannah in it. After checking around the rest of the house, I realized that he had taken all the pictures of himself out of the picture frames and scrapbooks. I'm done. I'm tired and beaten and hurt and I feel sick. He wins. I'm a shitty mom and everything that is wrong with him and everything that goes wrong in his life is all my fault. I don't know what to do with him. If I did, I would do it. I'd do anything to help him, anything that he needs to grow up and move forward and be an adult. I can't do it alone though, and he doesn't seem to want any of those things anyway. I guess maybe he'll figure it out some day. Until then, I have to let go. It's just so fucking hard.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115689470349632545?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115689470349632545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115689470349632545' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115689470349632545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115689470349632545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/fighting-with-boy-again.html' title='Fighting with the boy. Again.'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115636367393109322</id><published>2006-08-23T15:59:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-23T16:07:53.983-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I just got back from lunch with Brian and I miss him already. Pathetic, I know. Seriously though, I cannot spend enough time with that wonderful husband of mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, this week has been crazy so far and it's only Wednesday. First of all, I was sick all day Sunday and Monday. Bleh. Of course I had some of our lovely new wine Saturday night and can't even think about drinking any of it yet. Funnily enough, it doesn't taste that great the second time. I had to miss steak and lobster at my sister's house on Sunday, because I was too scared to eat any seafood. I mean, I still went but didn't eat too much. Dammit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls went back to school on Monday. That was a little hectic. Monday morning was especially crazy but everything went well. It was kinda' fun to try and get back into our routine. I've gotten too used to have the bathroom to myself in the morning. No more of that for a while!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casey had to go to the dentist yesterday for a filling and to get sealant on her new teeth. She had a really weird reaction to the shot and couldn't stop shaking for about ten minutes. It was a little scary actually. It went away though while we waited for it to take effect and she was talking up a a storm in the chair. The hygenist was laughing at how talkative she is, silly kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow we're going school supply shopping, that is always fun. Target has such cute things for girls. They love getting their stuff there. Friday Brian is going to the recording studio with my brother-in-law and we might be going out afterwards to watch a band that wants him to play a few songs with them. Not sure if that is Friday or Saturday, but I can never get enough of watching Brian onstage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115636367393109322?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115636367393109322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115636367393109322' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115636367393109322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115636367393109322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/i-just-got-back-from-lunch-with-brian.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115573804048464807</id><published>2006-08-16T10:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T10:59:01.736-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Okay so that last statement I made may have been a little harsh. And untrue. There are a few exceptions to the "my husband, my kids" thing. Stew, my nieces and nephews, Mick, Judy and Keith. Otherwise, you're on your own :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six bottles of Sweet Catabwa wine are on their way to us from the lovely &lt;a href="http://www.heinemanswinery.com/index.cfm"&gt;Heineman's Winery&lt;/a&gt;. Oh, it's so delicious! And we had such a great time there last summer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Playing hooky from work on Friday to hang out with the girls and Brian and my sister, her husband and their kids. It should be a lot of fun. We're going to the movies and having a cookout. The kids all start school next week. Yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115573804048464807?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115573804048464807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115573804048464807' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115573804048464807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115573804048464807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/okay-so-that-last-statement-i-made-may.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115514097315179955</id><published>2006-08-09T12:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T11:00:43.803-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm slowly learning how to let go of things. Because, really, it's all bullshit. My kids, my husband...that's pretty much what it's all about. Everyone else can take care of themselves. It's cool as hell, this happiness thing. Why didn't I try it before?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115514097315179955?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115514097315179955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115514097315179955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115514097315179955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115514097315179955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-slowly-learning-how-to-let-go-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115507073889590463</id><published>2006-08-08T16:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T11:01:59.953-04:00</updated><title type='text'>cuz it's funny and I don't want to forget</title><content type='html'>My kids and I loooove the Simpsons. We watch it all the time, as often as it is on when we're awake. Reruns are just as fun to watch as new shows, even the ones we've seen 120 times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian likes the Simpsons too, but not quite as much as me and the kids. He doesn't relate almost every situation in real life to an episode, he doesn't need to watch the same shows over and over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night when I got home, it wasn't on FOX for reruns - how shocking! Casey, who was the only one in the living room, blamed it on Brian. I said that it must have been him because he doesn't love the Simpsons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was in the kitchen making dinner but heard us and said that he did love the Simpsons. Casey's reponse back to him was, "Then why don't you marry them?" Tee hee!!! He just shook his head, gave a big sigh and said, "Sometimes I feel like I did." Ba-zing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115507073889590463?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/feeds/115507073889590463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9418425&amp;postID=115507073889590463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115507073889590463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115507073889590463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/cuz-its-funny-and-i-dont-want-to.html' title='cuz it&apos;s funny and I don&apos;t want to forget'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115496816356996839</id><published>2006-08-07T12:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T12:29:23.610-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Brian is an amazing cook. Seriously, he should be a chef or something. Because then he would be able to cook all the stuff he loves to make that we're too picky to eat. "We" are me and the girls. I should really encourage him to pursue that as a career, I know he would love it. And he definitely needs a new job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunch today = leftover swordfish that was grilled on a cedar plank yesterday. And a baked potato. Can't wait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115496816356996839?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115496816356996839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115496816356996839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/brian-is-amazing-cook.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115473395697985329</id><published>2006-08-04T19:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T19:25:57.006-04:00</updated><title type='text'>fresh ink</title><content type='html'>So I got a new tattoo today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P8040828.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P8040828.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love love love it. It was very cool to surprise Brian with it when he got home from work. He loves it too. It's so ouchie right now though. I can't wait until it's all healed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my tattoo artist in the background :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115473395697985329?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115473395697985329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115473395697985329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/fresh-ink.html' title='fresh ink'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115462591556814777</id><published>2006-08-03T13:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T13:27:19.426-04:00</updated><title type='text'>kinda' weird</title><content type='html'>Okay, who just added 106 hits to this blog and pretty much read the whole thing without leaving a comment?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115462591556814777?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115462591556814777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115462591556814777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/kinda-weird.html' title='kinda&apos; weird'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115461564800639989</id><published>2006-08-03T10:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-03T10:35:15.296-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Had a good night last night. We went to see my brother-in-law's band play at &lt;a href="http://www.skullys.org"&gt;Skully's&lt;/a&gt; even though it was a school night. I know I stayed up way too late and could really use a cup of coffee right about now. I was a little nervous about going to a show after what happened last time but everything was fine. I was pretty sad that Ian didn't make it but that was fine too. Totally understandable, all things considered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time for coffee...need caffeine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115461564800639989?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115461564800639989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115461564800639989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/had-good-night-last-night.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115444239074447415</id><published>2006-08-01T10:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T10:26:30.786-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm home from work today because I got almost no sleep last night. Getting a call at 3am from the Police Department because Hannah was caught breaking curfew didn't help. She was picked up at the park, and charged with breaking curfew and possession of tobacco. Didn't know she was smoking, so that was even more good news. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it ever stop?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115444239074447415?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115444239074447415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115444239074447415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-home-from-work-today-because-i-got.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115436353832447741</id><published>2006-07-31T12:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-31T12:58:08.523-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Terrible weekend, just terrible. Friday started out well enough. Left work at 12:30 and Brian took the afternoon off, which was cool. I took the kids to lunch and we ran some errands. That night the girls went with us to Best Buy and Borders for a little shopping. We came home and had dinner and watched Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Good times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday morning was okay too, pretty uneventful. Saturday afternoon Casey and I went to a baby shower, for a 17-year-old. Not cool. But I figured she needed all the gifts and good wishes she could get so we went. It was strange, because almost everyone was trying to act normal, even though we were all thinking the same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That night, we went out to the pizza place we went to last weekend because my brother-in-law's band was playing there. And that is where things started going downhill. The band sounded great, the boys were having a good time on stage. Brian played two songs with them and was awesome, as always. Why these boys haven't asked them to join the band is beyond me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots of their peeps showed up, including some that had never been to a show before and some that hadn't been in forever. We were all having a good time, drinking some beers and enjoying the show and things were going great until right after the first set. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My older brother and his wife were there, sitting at the table right behind us. She is a first-class bitch, always has been. It didn't help that my brother was completely drunk. I guess he started earlier in the day and didn't stop when they showed up. Usually this is bad, sometimes he's not a nice drunk. But he was behaving himself, just having a few drinks and watching the show like the rest of us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess she was ready to go before he was, which wasn't a problem for any of us. The earlier she leaves, the better. The problem was that she wanted him to drive them home. Even though he was pretty much trashed and their daughter was waiting to be picked up at my house. He didn't want to go yet and they ended up having a really loud screaming and cussing match right at the table. It was lovely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They must have realized that we were all watching them because they took it inside to the bar. Someone else told me what was going on and that she wanted him to drive so I followed them inside to try to talk some sense into both of them. That is the polite way of saying that I was there to kick her bitchy ass if she tried to make him drive anywhere. When they did leave, they went to my house to pick up their kid and she started yelling at my kids and ordering them around and it really pissed me off. At least Brian finally got to see her true colors, she's always so nice to him and he always scolds us for being mean to her. Now he knows she deserves everything she gets. Bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That wasn't enough to ruin my evening though, although it definitely did it's part. About an hour later, my new sister-in-law showed up. Crying. And asked me to go to their house and pick up my brother and take him anywhere else but there. I guess they've been fighting for the last week or so because he decided that he didn't really want to be married anymore. Yes, the brother who just got married in June. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said that he hasn't been coming home at night and he's been really mean when he has showed up. Apparently he pushed her up against the wall the other day when they were arguing and she said that she couldn't handle it anymore. I don't really blame her, I know how he can be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my other brother and I got in the car and drove over to their house. He was passed out on the couch and when I woke him up, he said he wasn't leaving. The house is hers so she has the right to tell him to leave and when I told him that he said that we would have to call the police if we wanted him to leave. When I said that I didn't want to call the police on my own brother, he got up from the couch, threw over the coffee table and stormed out of the house. He got into his truck and drove off without saying a word to anyone. We picked up the table and cleaned up the mess and were standing at the back door, getting ready to leave when his truck pulled back into the driveway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got out of the truck and headed towards the door. I asked him what he was doing but again he didn't say anything. She disappeared as soon as he showed up. He stormed through the house, checking all the rooms. I thought he was looking for something and kept asking him what he needed. He just kept walking around until he opened the closet door in their bedroom. She was crouched down on the floor, hiding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He didn't touch her but yelled at her that she had no right to involve his family in their problems. He called her terrible names, threatened her and then spit in her face. He started to leave and then turned around and tried to go after my other brother, who had followed her into the room and was standing to one side. Luckily I was between them and was somehow able to keep them apart. He took off again and I haven't talked to him since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We convinced her that she shouldn't stay at the house so she packed a bag and went to a friend's for the night. We drove around to a couple of places we thought he might be and then gave up for the night. I took John back to the pizza place and told Brian that I was going home. He couldn't leave because he had peeps there too, including his sister, so I went home alone. I didn't want my brother to show up without me being there. The kids had been through enough adult drama already. I didn't think he would come over, but I wanted to be there just in case. John filled Brian in on what had happened and the rest of the night was uneventful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday was okay. We didn't do much, met friends of ours who are getting married in two weeks to pick up Brian's outfit for their wedding. We did the grocery shopping and spent the rest of the day at home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still reeling from being in the middle of those horrible examples of the marriages in my family and from seeing my brother treat his wife the way he did. I can't get it out of my head. I'm so tired from not getting much sleep the night before last. I didn't sleep very well last night either. I need to call my brother and make sure he and his wife are okay. I need to call my bitchy sister-in-law and tell her to go fuck herself. Okay, so I won't do that second one. But I'd like to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115436353832447741?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115436353832447741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115436353832447741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/terrible-weekend-just-terrible.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115409498758141915</id><published>2006-07-28T09:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T09:56:27.630-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I heart my iPod</title><content type='html'>I love Sade. That song...King of Sorrow from Lover's Rock...wow. That part where she says "I have already paid for all my future sins." I love that line. There are songs from that CD that I could listen to for days. And that thing about having paid for future sins, me too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115409498758141915?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115409498758141915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115409498758141915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-heart-my-ipod.html' title='I heart my iPod'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115401846944664928</id><published>2006-07-27T12:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-27T13:35:55.520-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Shitty morning today. I woke up late, and was an hour late to work. Stopped at Starbucks on the way and got a terrible-tasting Caramel Macchiato. It was raining as I drove in, and the umbrella was not in my car. I had to park a mile away from the day since I was late and I spilled my yucky coffee on my shirt as I walked into the building in the ice cold rain. After I got here I found out that my checking account is overdrawn, no idea how that happened. And blogger is being an asshole. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glass half-full stuff: the girls are both home from their vacations. I didn't really have to park a mile away. It's 12:15 so morning is over. I get to leave work at noon:thirty tomorrow. We have good plans for this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115401846944664928?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115401846944664928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115401846944664928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/shitty-morning-today.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115384633500980600</id><published>2006-07-25T12:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T12:52:15.036-04:00</updated><title type='text'>nothing much...what's new?</title><content type='html'>My apologies to the one person who reads this thing for not updating more often. My head is just spinning and it's hard to make it stop long enough to put things down in writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casey is coming home tonight. Her flight gets in at 11:45pm. And I have the day off tomorrow so we can sleep in and spend the day laying around the house, so yay! I feel like I haven't had a day off in forever, which is probably not true. Poor Brian has to work. I feel bad for him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work has been kicking my ass lately. I've been doing a special project in hopes of getting some sort of bonus for completing it quickly. We'll see. I could really use the extra money right now too, for Hannah's senior pictures. This year is really going to cost us I think. But she is worth it and we're really proud of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of Hannah, she will be back from Colorado tomorrow night. I hope she is having a good time. There are lots of kids her age to hang out with but she doesn't really know them and isn't always the most outgoing kid. But even if she spends the whole time with my aunt, she'll have more fun than she would at home. I can't wait for her to be back, even though she only left on Friday. I hate not seeing them every day. I'm lame, I know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a few friends over on Saturday night for a cookout. It was a lot of fun. The weather was gorgeous, it was sunny but breezy out. Perfect. We had chicken and steak kabobs, salmon, salad, rice and a few other cookout foods and margaritas. Yum!! Later that evening we went to a local pizza place to listen to the band that was playing out on their new patio. My brother-in-law's band is playing there this Saturday so he wanted to check out the sound and space and stuff. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was a lot of fun too. We had a few beers and listened to the kick-ass girl singer. I personally had a few too many beers so I spent Sunday doing a bunch of nothing. It was awesome, except for the headache. And for some reason my back hurt. That sucked. So did the fact that the boy drank the rest of the margaritas Sunday night. Damn him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115384633500980600?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115384633500980600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115384633500980600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/nothing-muchwhats-new.html' title='nothing much...what&apos;s new?'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115310077738536865</id><published>2006-07-16T21:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-16T21:46:17.410-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have way too much shit going on right now. Bleh. I mean, it's not all bad, but there's just so much of it. I'm feeling very weighed down by all of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Took my parents to a doctor's appointment for my mom on Friday that took 2 fucking hours. Crazy. And while we were waiting, my stepdad felt like it was a good time to drop a huge bombshell on me. Didn't I say that I knew there were a bunch of family secrets that no one wanted to tell me but that I was cool with not knowing? NOT KNOWING. It's big, so big. Shocking and yet at the same time, not really. I haven't even talked to Brian about it yet. I don't know what to do with it either. Tell the rest of the family? My brothers have a right to know too. See what I mean? Too much shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yeah, I really needed to hear that my dad abused my mom when they were married. I like the way he called him "her first husband" instead of saying that it was my dad. I can't decide if my stepdad just needed to tell someone else these things or if he's punishing me because he's pissed that my mom is going to visit her mom next week without him. His choice, totally, but I'm the one who made all the arrangements for her to go so maybe this is his way of getting back at me for it. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I do know is that I'm tired. It's been an insane weekend and I'm starting to crack under the strain of it. On the positive side, I did talk to Casey today. It was so healing and uplifting to hear her voice and laugh. She's having a great time and she's bringing home a manual typewriter. She decided before she left that she wanted to get one. She wants to be a writer, pretty cool to write stories on an old typewriter I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent hours cleaning up her room today. Literally, hours. She's such a little pack rat and hates to throw anything away, including gum and candy wrappers and water bottles apparently. It's tradition for me to clean her room out while she's gone. It was nice though, because so many of the things in her room just really fit her perfectly. It made me feel like she wasn't really that far away. She has about forty of those colored metal bangles that she wears all the time and she stores them around a bottle of bubbles, it's so perfectly Casey. Bracelets wrapped around bubbles. I love it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115310077738536865?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115310077738536865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115310077738536865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-have-way-too-much-shit-going-on.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115280884084076547</id><published>2006-07-13T12:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T12:40:40.870-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'll have my kid back in twelve days. That is waaaay too far away for me. Nobody, not even Brian, understands how hard it is for me to be away from her for a month. And I haven't talked to her in more than a week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115280884084076547?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115280884084076547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115280884084076547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/ill-have-my-kid-back-in-twelve-days.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115253656315388485</id><published>2006-07-10T08:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T09:02:43.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing it down helps me remember</title><content type='html'>-: I forgot to get new tags for my car after my birthday. I remembered that I hadn't done it yet when I saw a Sheriff's car driving behind me on my way to work this morning. No, he didn't pull me over. I need to get to the BMV right after work today. I hate that. One year I forgot to get them and didn't remember until September. Next year, someone please remind me before my birthday to get new tags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+: We picked up Hannah's proofs for her senior pictures on Thursday. They are gorgeous. We ended up with 36 proofs, which we have to narrow down to 5. So far, we've got 16. It's going to be so hard to pick just 5 but we'll get it done. We have them until the 19th so that gives us plenty of time to decide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-/+: Today is Hannah's follow up appointment with the Juvenile Probation lady. This should be our last meeting there. She has written her essay, done her community service and I assume she has the money for her fines. I'll be very glad when this is all over, which it should be after today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+: The kids bought me an FM transmitter for my iPod as a late birthday present. How sweet is that? Now I can listen to it in my car, yay! It was completely unexpected and I was very touched and happy and proud of them. They really are good kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;+: We saw Superman Returns on Friday. I liked it a lot. Then again, you know how I love all superhero movies. And as Brian said during the movie, Kate Bosworth is way hotter than Margot Kidder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115253656315388485?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115253656315388485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115253656315388485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/writing-it-down-helps-me-remember.html' title='Writing it down helps me remember'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115197501218107155</id><published>2006-07-03T20:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-03T21:03:37.866-04:00</updated><title type='text'>summer storm</title><content type='html'>So I was going to ask Brian to take a walk with me after dinner tonight, because I really need to get my ass moving again and because because our town is so nice and quiet. Unfortunately, my plans got changed by a really bad storm. I was on my way home from work and had to stop at my sister's house to pick up the panini grill. Brian called right when I got there and told me to stay put because the weather was pretty scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He said that the tornado sirens were going off, the dog was freaking out and a bolt of lightning hit the walnut tree in our backyard. It's the neighbor's tree, but a lot of it hangs over into our yard. We have to pick up a lot of walnuts. I took pictures of course:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P7030706.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P7030706.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is our garage, and our barbecue grills. There are bits of tree all over the yard. Here's a closer view of the damage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P7030701.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P7030701.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P7030705.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P7030705.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian said that when it hit, there was a really loud noise and when he got to the back sliding door to check it out, the yard was full of smoke. Somehow the lightning strike made our automatic garage door not open. I don't know how that happened. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dog's leash is tied up to that tree. It hangs from a hook that was in the tree when we moved here. We think that might have been what attracted the lightning:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P7030703.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P7030703.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The leash was one of those vinyl coated, steel cable ones. It used to be coated with clear vinyl. Now it's burned to a crisp:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P7030704.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P7030704.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all waaaaay too close for comfort. I'm glad none of the kids were home, especially Casey. She hates storms enough as it is. I hope the tree is okay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115197501218107155?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115197501218107155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115197501218107155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/summer-storm.html' title='summer storm'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115180833134841067</id><published>2006-07-01T22:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T22:45:31.366-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Nothing new to blog about, just wanted to post this picture of me and Brian. Because I like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/us.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/us.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slept in until 12:30 today. I finally feel like I got enough sleep. I can't even remember the last time I slept in that late without being ill. It was freakin' sweet!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115180833134841067?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115180833134841067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115180833134841067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/07/nothing-new-to-blog-about-just-wanted.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115152138606041768</id><published>2006-06-28T14:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T15:03:06.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'>So tired</title><content type='html'>Seriously. Yesterday, at the airport, was exhausting. Having to get up early and go back was even worse. I am completely worn out. I  just want to hide under my desk and take a nap.  That is not going to happen. And we have that show tonight too, which will make me even more tired tomorrow. Y'all should be glad you don't work with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Casey made it to Utah safely. She just called me. I miss her more than ever.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Brian said that he laughed out loud last night at the airport while listening to my iPod when "Rock Lobster" as sung by Peter Griffin played. Too funny!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Casey and I got some &lt;a href="http://www.bathandbodyworks.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2220777&amp;cp=2073250.2198477.2268623&amp;amp;cm_re_o=3AEw+mzkw+niix+P4CjClA_S.NCjCPvTvu+fwF5fzfbBEl&amp;parentPage=family"&gt;yummy&lt;/a&gt; Bath &amp;amp; Body Works &lt;a href="http://www.bathandbodyworks.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2220775&amp;cp=2073250.2198477.2268623&amp;amp;page=1&amp;doVSearch=no&amp;amp;doVSearch=no&amp;cm_re_o=3AEw+mzkw+niix+P4CjClA_S.NCjCPvTvu+fwF5fzfbBEl&amp;amp;pageBucket=0&amp;amp;parentPage=family"&gt;stuff&lt;/a&gt; while we were waiting at the airport last night. On sale - buy one, get one free. I got Frozen Daiquiri and she got Pomegranate Martini.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We also had Max + Erma's while we were waiting at the airport.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Three blogger updates in two days. Wait, is that good?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Bad things:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;I miss my kid. And she's gone for almost a whole month.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm extra whiny today. So whiny I'm getting on my own nerves.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I just realized that I will probably be at least 10 years older than everyone else at the show tonight. Except Brian, I'm only three years older than he is.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;More good than bad. I'll stop now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115152138606041768?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115152138606041768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115152138606041768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/so-tired.html' title='So tired'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115150793381857673</id><published>2006-06-28T11:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T11:18:53.886-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If I complain later about having a stomach ache, someone please remind me that I just ate a two-day old scone and it's my own dumb fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casey didn't get to leave last night. Her flight was scheduled for a  7:15 pm departure to Nashville and then on to Vegas. We were informed at the gate that the plane to Nashville was coming from Baltimore and that there was really bad weather in Baltimore that was causing a delay.  And by the time the plane got in, we weren't sure if she would be in time to make her connection in Nashville. We rescheduled her for a 7:45 am flight this morning, which actually worked out better for her because it was a direct flight. It was not so good for me, because it made for a hectic morning. Plus, you know...she's gone for a month and that's never good for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired. We're going to a NIN concert tonight too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115150793381857673?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115150793381857673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115150793381857673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/if-i-complain-later-about-having.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115143798253035751</id><published>2006-06-27T15:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T15:53:02.630-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Casey's leaving tonight for a month. To visit her dad. He doesn't deserve such a great kid. Seriously.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am extremely nauseous right now. Can't decide if it's because I'm upset because the kid is leaving or if it's because I ate my lunch from yesterday that should have been in the freezer but wasn't.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I keep having weird cravings. Like right now...I want grapefruit juice, which I don't even like. And earlier today, at around 8:30 this morning, I wanted a rum and coke.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;No, I'm not pregnant.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Yes, I'm sure.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115143798253035751?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115143798253035751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115143798253035751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/caseys-leaving-tonight-for-month.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115085275636273961</id><published>2006-06-20T21:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T21:19:16.363-04:00</updated><title type='text'>best husband ever</title><content type='html'>I got this for my birthday!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/nanos.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/nanos.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The black one, and it's engraved on the back with the sweetest message. I know...my birthday isn't until tomorrow but it came in today and he couldn't wait. I swear it wasn't my idea. I wanted to wait but he was so excited and it was so cute I couldn't resist :) Love it, love it, love it! Can't wait to get some accessories and some new songs. I just won a $10 iTunes gift card from Blingo a couple of weeks ago. My first two purchases = Hips Don't Lie by Shakira and Ain't No Other Man by Christina Aguilera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He really is too much. I don't deserve him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115085275636273961?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115085275636273961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115085275636273961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/best-husband-ever.html' title='best husband ever'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115082603763942489</id><published>2006-06-20T13:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T21:12:17.916-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a very strange "Sex and the City" dream last night. I dreamed that Samantha married a gay guy so his parents wouldn't know that he was gay. They had a great apartment with a loft that had a big glass window divider thing. It looked like the box seats at a concert. She somehow got pregnant and at their baby shower, he spent the whole time up in the loft with his boyfriend. His parents noticed and the jig was up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the dream itself isn't that weird. In fact, I could see that happening if it was Charlotte instead of Samantha. I'm just surprised that I had a "Sex and the City" dream at all. I probably haven't even seen more than ten episodes total and I wouldn't exactly call myself a fan. I have no idea where any of that came from. Oh well, at least it was a pretty entertaining episode :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115082603763942489?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115082603763942489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115082603763942489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-had-very-strange-sex-and-city-dream.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115030959580134595</id><published>2006-06-14T14:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T14:26:35.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'>yikes</title><content type='html'>It just hit me earlier today that I will be 38 in exactly one week. Wow. Inching closer to 40 every day...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115030959580134595?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115030959580134595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115030959580134595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/yikes.html' title='yikes'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-115024496613121712</id><published>2006-06-13T20:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T20:29:26.160-04:00</updated><title type='text'>um, congratulations</title><content type='html'>So Brian and I have been home sick for the last two days. Sooooo sick, my body aches from all the vomiting, sorry if that's too much information. There's more to share, but I'll keep that to myself. We both feel a lot better, but I could use a couple more days off. At least this is a short week for me. I'm taking Friday off because my aunt and uncle will be here for a long weekend. Can't wait to see them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretty much slept all day Sunday, which should have been the first clue that I was getting sick. I thought I was just worn out from my hellish week. Also we had been out late Saturday night, celebrating my youngest brother's marriage. Apparently he got married on the 3rd and they had a party on Saturday night. He called to tell me about it Saturday afternoon, about 3 hours before it started. But that really is just how he is so I wasn't offended. We had a nice time, met a lot of their friends. I've always liked his new wife, we're so happy for both of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tired, and sore. I just wish I could sleep for the next 48 hours. Hannah is getting her senior pictures taken Friday afternoon. I'm so excited about that!!! Too bad she's not. I keep telling myself she'll be glad to have the pictures when she's older. I really do believe that. And I bet she'll enjoy herself once we get there :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-115024496613121712?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115024496613121712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/115024496613121712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/um-congratulations.html' title='um, congratulations'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114977031207378125</id><published>2006-06-08T08:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T08:38:32.100-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's not okay to scream at work, right?</title><content type='html'>This week has been completely exhausting, between finding out about my co-worker and dealing with my parents, I feel like I'm about to drop. It doesn't help that we keep getting emails about the trust fund for the kids and the funeral and requests for help with the meal afterwards. Each new email about Angie brings tears to my eyes. It's just too much. It's just too tragic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people in my row are helping with the gathering after the funeral tomorrow, which is really very nice of them. The problem is...I'm so tired of hearing them talk about it like it's a goddamn picnic. Maybe that's just their way of grieving but it's making me want to scream. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't be going to the funeral, and not just because the service is being held in a church. I just don't think I can handle that right now, can't imagine seeing her husband and her parents and witnessing their grief. Plus my parents are coming over for dinner so we can help them with their paperwork after Brian makes us a delicious dinner. My plans for Saturday night? Beer, and lots of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114977031207378125?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114977031207378125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114977031207378125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/its-not-okay-to-scream-at-work-right.html' title='It&apos;s not okay to scream at work, right?'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114961698717505757</id><published>2006-06-06T13:44:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T14:03:07.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>bad day</title><content type='html'>Yesterday sucked. I came in to work to the news that one of our co-workers had passed away unexpectedly on Saturday. She was about 34-years old, married with two very small children. I don't know a lot of the details about what happened, but I was told that it was a brain aneurysm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was such a great person, always helpful and so funny. She had an amazing sense of humor, she made me laugh every single time I talked to her. I will really miss her a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole day just dragged and was emotionally draining. Everyone here is in shock and so many people are devastated. I should have gone home and gone to bed, I really did feel like it. But instead, we went to my parent's house to drop off some paperwork. Bad idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My stepdad spent the whole time ranting about the Social Security department and all the paperwork they've been getting. He kept talking about how bad my mom's condition is and how frustrated he is trying to get some help for them. Then he started in on her, kept asking her questions that he knew she didn't know the answer to and kept looking back at me when she couldn't answer as if to say, "See what I'm talking about?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to say, "We get it. We know. Leave her alone." He's always arguing with her when he knows he's right and she's wrong. Why? Just let it go and move on. It's not worth it and no amount of arguing is going to make her better. To make it even worse, Casey was with us and got to witness the whole thing. I hate it when he does shit like that in front of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's upsetting, because it's so pointless and he isn't well either and should just calm the fuck down about it. But he doesn't get that, he always has to be right, he always has to be in control of things. He's not used to not having his own way about everything and it pisses him off having to depend on us for anything. I just don't know what to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My aunt, my mother's sister, is coming out for a long weekend in a couple of weeks. It will be so nice to see her. She has a way of taking charge and getting things done. Maybe she'll be able to make him see that he's just spinning his wheels every time he fights with her. At least if she sees him do it, she'll tell him off. And he does seem to listen to her, more than he listens to the rest of us anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a vacation. And probably some valium.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114961698717505757?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114961698717505757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114961698717505757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/bad-day_06.html' title='bad day'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114947146128329504</id><published>2006-06-04T21:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T21:37:41.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P6030621.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P6030621.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this the cutest dog ever or what? We took the girls to the pet store to play with dogs Saturday night and this one was my absolute favorite. She slept in my arms while we walked around the store and was adorable and sweet. I could visit her every day and if she didn't cost $3,880 we would have taken her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up having a pretty busy weekend in spite of having very few plans. I pretty much ran errands all day Saturday because my better half was slightly hung-over and really tired :) I tried to tell him to slow down but he didn't listen. It didn't help that people kept buying him drinks either. Saturday evening we had his dad, stepmom and grandpa over for dinner. He made yummy grilled chicken and a bunch of grilled vegetables, I made potato salad. The weather was perfect, sunny but with a nice cool breeze. We sat outside for about two hours just talking and laughing and watching the girls play with the neighbor's dog, Cinnamon. It was a great night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today both kids had to work and Casey spent the night at my sister's house so we had a nice quiet evening. Brian has just taken over the television so instead of watching American Dad, we're watching something on SciFi. I have no idea what.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114947146128329504?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114947146128329504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114947146128329504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/is-this-cutest-dog-ever-or-what-we.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114927410081738290</id><published>2006-06-02T14:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T14:48:20.856-04:00</updated><title type='text'>update?</title><content type='html'>Exciting events coming up: our nephew's graduation party is tonight followed by an evening at the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alrosa_Villa"&gt;infamous&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.alrosavilla.com/"&gt;Alrosa Villa&lt;/a&gt;. I'm so happy that Columbus is smoke-free. I love not smelling like an ashtray after a night out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that's pretty much all that is going on this weekend. Yay! Lots of nothing to do and two whole days to do nothing besides some housecleaning and scrapbooking. Sounds like a great weekend to me. I really do need to work for a few hours tomorrow. My week has been f'ing crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How boring that last paragraph makes me sound. Oh well, "boring" is pretty much accurate. The most exciting thing that happened this week is that I got a new CD clock radio thing as a reward for five years of service at my work. It's so cool! The LED display changes colors and has brightness control, which I am in love with. This morning we woke up to "Tropicalia" by Beck from Mutations. It's very exciting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I haven't talked about my sunburn yet. Still ouchie, but getting better. Man, I'm lame. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114927410081738290?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114927410081738290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114927410081738290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/06/update.html' title='update?'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114894050672885516</id><published>2006-05-29T17:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-29T18:08:26.866-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial weekend recap</title><content type='html'>Friday afternoon, we saw the new X-men movie. Loved it!!! I am a super hero freak, big-time, and I especially love the X-men. So many surprises, including the one we missed after the credits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday, we spent most of the day at &lt;a href="http://www.eastontowncenter.com/index.cfm"&gt;Easton Town Center&lt;/a&gt; with Casey. It was a gorgeous day and we had a lot of fun. I took the most beautiful picture of Casey in front of the big fountain:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P5270582.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P5270582.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's growing up so quickly, it makes me sad sometimes. But I'm really proud of her, she is turning into a lovely young lady. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday night Brian went to the recording studio with my brother-in-law and Casey and I watched movies with my sister. We saw The Family Stone and Cheaper By the Dozen 2. Good stuff, we had a nice time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday morning we watched Brian's niece's softball game. She is the youngest player on the team but she's actually very good. They won the game 16-2, I think. That afternoon we had a cookout with my sisters and their kids. It was almost 90 degrees out but we have a big walnut tree in our yard for shade. Still, I was pretty uncomfortable because I got a big fat sunburn on my arms at the ball game. I thought we had sunscreen in Brian's car but we didn't. So I sat in the sun for an hour and a half with no protection and my arms are fried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian got sunburned too, but his legs are the worst. We're both in pain today and have been trying to take it easy, but still...ouch. Work is really going to suck tomorrow. I'll be so busy, hopefully my sunburn will feel better in the morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114894050672885516?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114894050672885516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114894050672885516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/05/memorial-weekend-recap.html' title='Memorial weekend recap'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114848623753903295</id><published>2006-05-24T11:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T11:57:19.993-04:00</updated><title type='text'>loving life</title><content type='html'>Things are so great right now. I wish everything could stay like this forever. Work is good, the kids are doing well, Brian and I are as in love as we ever have been. Family things aren't terrible, the weather is perfect and money is okay too. What more is there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two oldest kids have jobs! At the new &lt;a href="http://www.quiznos.com/"&gt;Quizno's&lt;/a&gt; in our town and at &lt;a href="http://www.kroger.com/homepage/index.htm"&gt;Kroger&lt;/a&gt;. We're so proud of both of them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School is almost out (six more days) and we have a long weekend coming up. The new &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0376994/"&gt;X-men movie&lt;/a&gt; starts on Friday and we're planning to go as soon as the kids get home from school. Everyone is so excited to see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been feeling very crafty lately, doing a lot of scrapbooking and taking a lot of pictures to scrapbook. I decorated a lucite frame that I got from my work in celebration of my five years here. It had the company logo etched into the top left corner. Bleh. I covered that up with a big pink fabric flower, added a few other things and now it's beautiful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put a picture of all three kids in it. I would guess that the picture was taken ten years ago. It's so cute! I did take a picture of the frame, of course, and I'll try to post it later tonight so you can admire it's adorableness :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casey is going to Utah in about a month and maybe Hannah is going to Boston if she can get the time off from work. Stephen has no plans for the summer, just working and hanging out with his friends I guess. That's cool. I don't plan on doing much more than that myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114848623753903295?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114848623753903295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114848623753903295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/05/loving-life.html' title='loving life'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114795918587130508</id><published>2006-05-18T08:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T09:33:05.983-04:00</updated><title type='text'>this week so far</title><content type='html'>It's been an interesting week. On Monday, I started reporting to my new manager. This is extremely good news. I sit in a completely new area and he is very supportive and just great.  I am really happy about the change, and my new neighbors are so nice :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a form from the Social Security Administration regarding my mom's disability claim, which sucks. It's a bunch of questions about her daily activities and what she can and cannot do since becoming sick. I'm not allowed to tell her about it or ask her to answer any of the questions. I'm nervous that I'm going to say the wrong thing and mess this up. I truly believe that she is no longer capable of working and deserves to be on disability. Her condition is getting worse and worse. Just the other day, she got lost driving from her house to my house because she couldn't remember where we live.  I've put off filling out the form for a few days, but they need it back by next week. Bleh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hannah and I had a meeting yesterday about her &lt;a href="http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-had-terrible-weekend-thanks-for.html"&gt;underage drinking violation&lt;/a&gt;. Lots of fun. She isn't going to have a court date, which is great news, and the charges against her are not going to be filed, which is also great. She was put into what the juvenile probation department calls the "Diversion Program" because this was her first offense and it was not a felony or violent crime. So, she has to write an essay for the program director and do eight hours of community service and get a job within 60 days and she's done.  What an ugly paragraph that was. In fact, the whole morning was unpleasant. But I'm sure the whole situation will end well for Hannah, and that's what's really important.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114795918587130508?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114795918587130508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114795918587130508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/05/this-week-so-far.html' title='this week so far'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114771216215710921</id><published>2006-05-15T12:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T13:13:08.966-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>okay, so I had a great Mother's Day. I got &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060899190/qid=1147712711/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/104-7768690-5583130?s=books&amp;v=glance&amp;n=283155"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; from Hannah, and &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000ESSTMO/qid=1147712797/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/104-7768690-5583130?s=music&amp;v=glance&amp;n=5174"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; from Casey. Stupid blogger wouldn't let me post the picture I took :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian made me a yummy breakfast on Sunday, which was very sweet and delicious. We visiting all our mommies and it was uneventful and pleasant. We pretty much hung out at home all weekend, I love it when we get to do that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114771216215710921?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114771216215710921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114771216215710921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/05/okay-so-i-had-great-mothers-day.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114719422043422171</id><published>2006-05-09T12:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T13:03:40.583-04:00</updated><title type='text'>mother</title><content type='html'>So Mother's Day is coming up. I really have mixed feelings about this "holiday." I love it because I am a mom, and I love the cards and the hugs and the presents (there, I said it) and the extra-special treatment. I hate it because I'm also a daughter and my feelings about my own mother are so complex and fucked up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've never had a traditional mother/daughter relationship. Most days she was the one who needed to be taken care of. And with her Alzheimer's getting worse every day, I know that all the issues I have with her will never be resolved. All the things I should have told her years ago will never be said. I never saw the point before and I definitely don't now. The best thing I can do for us both is to resign myself to the fact that it is as good as it's going to get. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They don't make a card that says, "It's okay, I managed to survive somehow anyway." And all the "wonderful mother" posts are making me depressed. Can I please just spend the weekend in bed?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114719422043422171?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114719422043422171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114719422043422171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/05/mother.html' title='mother'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114711433351798388</id><published>2006-05-08T14:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-08T14:52:13.560-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We had such a great weekend! The weather here in Ohio was beautiful, I think we spent the whole time outside :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday my sister came over to help us with yard work. Weeding the flower beds and cleaning out the strawberry patch, trimming hedges and mowing the lawn. It was a lot of work but it was actually fun! Our nephew came over too and kept us all entertained while we worked outside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That evening we went to her house for a seafood cookout. She grilled tilapia and shrimp, Brian made scallops wrapped in bacon. Man, was it delicious. We sat outside until it was dark, drinking some beers and wine. It was a great night, but it did get a little chilly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casey was gone the whole day. She and the rest of the middle school choir members took a trip to &lt;a href="http://www1.paramountparks.com/kingsisland/attractions/index.cfm"&gt;Kings Island&lt;/a&gt; for a choir competition. Three of their choirs (including hers) got first place, which was really exciting for them. She had a great time and was completely worn out when she got home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday we had a cookout for my parents anniversary, my stepdad's birthday, my sister's birthday and Mother's Day. It was another beautiful day once the sun came out and almost everyone from my side of the family was there. I took a ton of pictures (about 60) and Brian made a ton of food, which I took a picture of :) It was really great and the last few people left after 7pm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only downside was that I may have gotten a little too much sun. My lips feel sunburned and my arms and face are a little pink. Nothing terrible, just a small amount of discomfort, but totally worth it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114711433351798388?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114711433351798388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114711433351798388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/05/we-had-such-great-weekend-weather-here.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114667447126087551</id><published>2006-05-03T12:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T12:41:11.330-04:00</updated><title type='text'>just some stuff</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;That vanity plate I saw the other day (GOP4ME) is stupid. Made even more stupid by the fact that I read it as: &lt;i&gt;Go pee for me&lt;/i&gt;. At least my way was funny.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Vanilla yogurt looks like mayonnaise. That kinda grosses me out. But it is delicious if I close my eyes while I'm eating it and don't really think about it too much:)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Everyone who drive the same roads as me sucks. I really could almost hate them. I'm just trying to get to work or home, people. Back the fuck off.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Casey is going to an out-of-town Choir Competition this weekend. She'll be gone from 7am to 11pm on Saturday. I know she's going to have a great time but I'm really going to miss her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have a Stewie Griffin postcard that says &lt;strong&gt;"I like you. When the world is mine, your death shall be quick and painless."&lt;/strong&gt; I brought it in to work today and it is amusing me quite nicely. I want to put it up on my cubicle wall but I'm afraid people will think that I like them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Saturday the 6th is National Scrapbooking Day. I don't know what that means.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am super bored. Is it Friday yet?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114667447126087551?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114667447126087551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114667447126087551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/05/just-some-stuff.html' title='just some stuff'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114640743877759809</id><published>2006-04-30T10:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T10:30:38.893-04:00</updated><title type='text'>crap weekend</title><content type='html'>It's been forever since I haven't had a good weekend. I guess I was due for one. Not that it has been so terrible, but nothing really great has happened either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian wasn't feeling well when he came home from work on Friday. I have no idea what was wrong with him. Bad stomach pains without nausea or any other symptoms? No clue. He spent the rest of the night and half of Saturday in bed. Nothing we did made him feel any better, which completely sucked. We were supposed to go out Saturday night but he still wasn't feeling well so we didn't make it.  It was disappointing because he was supposed to play a few songs with the band. I do love seeing him onstage, probably as much as he loves being there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls and I went to Borders Friday night for coffee and book shopping. I bought some Mother's Day presents and Hannah found &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060899190/qid=1146406750/sr=2-1/ref=pd_bbs_b_2_1/002-8927369-4100843?s=books&amp;v=glance&amp;amp;n=283155"&gt;the gift&lt;/a&gt; that she wants to get me. Coincidentally, she wants it too. Casey spent the rest of her birthday money on two books, which she has already finished reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday was spent taking care of Brian and running a few errands. I was planning on coming to work for a few hours but didn't make it due to lack of sleep Friday night. Plus I didn't want to leave Brian with the girls while he wasn't feeling well. Not that they can't take care of themselves, but I didn't want him to have to worry about anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I stayed home yesterday, which means I'm at work today instead. At least it's quiet! And Brian is finally feeling better, so that makes me happy too. I'm getting a lot done, in spite of spending time on Blogger :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114640743877759809?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114640743877759809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114640743877759809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/crap-weekend.html' title='crap weekend'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114624540070287758</id><published>2006-04-28T13:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T13:30:00.730-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I know</title><content type='html'>I'm getting really bad about updating my blog. I'm not really sure why. There's a lot going on at home right now, some bad and some good. Mostly good, of course, so that might be the problem :) I blah more when I'm upset, in real life and here. But that's no excuse. Then again, who really cares whether I post or not? A handful of people at most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No big catastrophes, no secrets left to spill really. I guess there are a couple, but nothing earth shattering or life changing. Just everyday life, which in my case, tends to be pretty boring. We work, we eat, we sleep. We spend time with the girls, with our friends, with each other. We laugh, we worry, we love. It's incredible and ordinary at the same time. And I wouldn't want it any other way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114624540070287758?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114624540070287758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114624540070287758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-know.html' title='I know'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114590753769988053</id><published>2006-04-24T15:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-24T15:39:31.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So Brian got his car on Thursday. It's the Maxima that he found online:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/greenmaxima.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/greenmaxima.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a picture of the actual car, stolen from the dealer's website. It is so nice and has tons of cool extras. I have driven it a total of one time since we got it. I don't expect to get behind the wheel much more than that :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a great time at the zoo on Saturday! I'll post about it later and add some pics. I hope Blogger is nice to this post. I hear it's being an ass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114590753769988053?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114590753769988053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114590753769988053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/so-brian-got-his-car-on-thursday.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114564420255736551</id><published>2006-04-21T14:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T14:30:02.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>my keys</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P4170474.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P4170474.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just recently realized how much the stuff hanging from my keyring says about me. Yep, that's about it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114564420255736551?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114564420255736551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114564420255736551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-keys.html' title='my keys'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114546503488645003</id><published>2006-04-19T12:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T12:43:55.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'>new car</title><content type='html'>Apparently, we're looking for a new car. Brian really does need one. The Punisher is getting old and little things are wrong with it. Plus he deserves to have a nice car, he works so hard for us. He did some shopping online the other day and last night we actually visited a couple of dealers. We test-drove this car:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/convertible.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/convertible.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice and in our price range, but a convertible isn't very practical. Casey didn't like driving with the top down. When we got back to the dealership, she said that her neck was sore from having to duck down to avoid the wind. We weren't really serious about buying it, but Brian said that the weather was perfect for a spin in a convertible so we took it for a little drive. It was fun! But I doubt that we would have enough nice days to justify buying it. Stupid Ohio weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he's looking for a car similar to mine (Nissan Maxima). That would be cool...his and hers Nissans :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114546503488645003?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114546503488645003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114546503488645003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/new-car.html' title='new car'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114529579266750341</id><published>2006-04-17T13:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T13:43:12.853-04:00</updated><title type='text'>hula hoops</title><content type='html'>our weekend was lovely. Casey had a great birthday, part one. Dinner at Joe's Crab Shack was delicious and fun. She ate a ton of crab legs :) She loves the cell phone and our waitress made her spin a hula hoop in the middle of the dining area while they sang Happy Birthday. My brother-in-law was a party pooper and just held his. I have a great picture of the two of them laughing at Casey's attempt. I'll try to post it later. This weekend we're going to &lt;a href="http://www.colszoo.org/"&gt;the zoo&lt;/a&gt; with family and some of her friends for part two. I hope the weather is nice! And then she's planning on having a sleep-over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday was a good day too. We're not at all religious so Easter just means candy for breakfast and ham for dinner. We did a little housework and a little yardwork, took the dog for a walk and relaxed all day. We watched Elizabethtown (we're loving &lt;a href="http://www.netflix.com"&gt;Netflix&lt;/a&gt;!), which was really good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I'm taking my parents to an appointment with the Social Security office nearby to see if my mother qualifies for disability benefits since her doctors think she is not able to work. That will be lots of fun. But they can't take themselves and I volunteered. I hope it doesn't take too long. At least I'll have the morning to myself after I take the girls to school. And maybe, hopefully, there will be a couple of cold beers in the fridge when I get home. Trust me, I'll need them :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114529579266750341?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114529579266750341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114529579266750341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/hula-hoops.html' title='hula hoops'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114488548706104805</id><published>2006-04-12T19:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-12T19:44:47.536-04:00</updated><title type='text'>food poisoning?</title><content type='html'>How do you even know if you had food poisoning? I have no idea. I do know that Brian and I were both sick today and last night. We had almost the same dinner as the girls but with different cheese. Neither of them were sick, so at least there's that. We stayed in bed until 11:00, then spent the rest of the day on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls came home and gave us some sympathy. I always love that. We're feeling much better, but not all the way. After dinner, the girls and I went outside to take pictures of the beautiful tree in our backyard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/200/tree.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/closeup.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/200/closeup.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Hannah and I took pictures. Casey played with the neighbor's dog, Cinnamon:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/caseyandcinnamon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/200/caseyandcinnamon.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We brought in a branch to take some closeups. Hannah's:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/hannahs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/200/hannahs.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;turned out a lot better than mine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/mine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/200/mine.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they're both nice. Hey, if you want to make me feel even better, click on the thumbnail under my profile and go visit Mulligan :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114488548706104805?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114488548706104805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114488548706104805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/food-poisoning.html' title='food poisoning?'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114478040369445858</id><published>2006-04-11T14:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T14:37:38.063-04:00</updated><title type='text'>so pretty</title><content type='html'>I have a new renter this week. And look how well her thumbnail matches the new colors of my blog! Coincidence, I swear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I really like her blog. She's a teacher (very admirable) and she's political, but doesn't beat you over the head with it. She has some great pictures in her photo gallery and a bunch of great links. Check her out by clicking on the thumbnail under my profile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, it's Casey's birthday this weekend. She will be 13. bleh. We're getting her a cell phone and she chose &lt;a href="http://www.joescrabshack.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Joe's Crab Shack&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; for her birthday dinner. It's also my brother-in-law's birthday on Sunday (he'll be 39!) so she invited their family to come out to dinner with us. It will be nice, I know we'll all have a great time. I'm not excited about my youngest turning 13, but what can you do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114478040369445858?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114478040369445858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114478040369445858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/so-pretty.html' title='so pretty'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114442736772214191</id><published>2006-04-10T10:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-11T14:37:52.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Collaboration: Episode Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, did I already mention that I joined the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.crazyhipblogmamas.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Crazy/Hip Blog Mamas&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; webring? Even though I don't consider myself hip, at all. Apparently it's an and/or thing, because they let me in, despite my lame assedness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I love them. The other members are so cool and funny and have great sites. There's this thing on the website called the Writing Collaboration that I'm going to try. Because sometimes I really need the motivation to write something besides the bullshit I usually post. So the topic is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If I had an entire weekend to myself I would...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My initial reaction to this topic is that I would most likely have a breakdown (See? Crazy, that's how I got in :) but I realized that probably isn't true anymore. There have been many times in my life when the thought of being left alone for 48 hours would have sent me over the edge. There were times when a weekend alone sounded like heaven. These days, it's neither torture nor a fantasy. And while it's not something I would ever seek out, I wouldn't curl up and die if it happened. I can imagine what it would be like though, and I'm sure it would be lovely.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The first thing I would do is check into a hotel, one with a jacuzzi in the room. We stayed in a room like that on our wedding night and it was so nice. Anything that reminds me of my wedding or my wonderful husband is always a plus. I know I would have to bring pictures of the kids and hubby to put in the room, because I'm just that lame. I can't stand to be away from my family for more than a day. It's pathetic, I know. Anyway, these are the things I would do with my weekend:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Sleep in as late as possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Spend a few hours with a cup of coffee and my writing journal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Take a million pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Soak in the jacuzzi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Catch up on my reading.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Call home too much.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;NOT shop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Of course, I don't need a weekend alone to do any of those things. But for some reason, I never do them. Too many errands on the weekends, I guess. And it's so easy to put off doing things for myself if it means doing something for Brian or the kids. I call it the price of motherhood. And they're completely worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114442736772214191?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114442736772214191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114442736772214191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/writing-collaboration-episode-two.html' title='Writing Collaboration: Episode Two'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114427908545001990</id><published>2006-04-05T19:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T19:18:05.496-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Bucks!</title><content type='html'>I keep getting hits from people looking for pictures of AJ Hawk and Bobby Carpenter so I figured I'd post the ones I have. They're not great, but maybe someone will appreciate them. Or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P3180585.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P3180585.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/1600/P3180586.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7228/684/320/P3180586.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114427908545001990?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114427908545001990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114427908545001990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/go-bucks.html' title='Go Bucks!'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114425451885645455</id><published>2006-04-05T11:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-05T12:28:39.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'>update</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The boy had his court date yesterday. Fines and community service and a year of probation. Not too bad. None of that really affects us, since he is over 18. At most, I'll have to nag him to get the shit done, but maybe not. He is remarkably capable of handling his responsibilities if it means not having to listen to me bitch about something. Hey, whatever works.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hannah won't have a court date for a couple of weeks, since she is a minor. Apparently, that makes it takes longer. Right now, she is sick with a terrible cold. I feel bad for her. She spent almost the whole night last night sitting beside me on the couch. That's not like her.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Good news (to me anyway): My sister had the same court date as the boy. He told me that she and her husband got two days in jail, fines and court costs and three years of probation. I'm enjoying all of that way too much. I was hoping for more jail time, but I'm satisfied with what they got. Yes, I'm still mad. As if you couldn't tell.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114425451885645455?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114425451885645455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114425451885645455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/update.html' title='update'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114409232608152472</id><published>2006-04-03T15:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T15:25:26.120-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a terrible weekend, thanks for asking. Really, the worst one in forever. First of all, Casey was gone from Thursday morning until Sunday night, which sucked because I really missed her. Whenever one of the kids is gone, I'm always on edge. And probably on the verge of a breakdown. So yeah, I was already jittery and scattered and off balance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian and I had a fight on Friday, over nothing really. I blame myself, I overreacted and took another step closer to that breakdown. It was terrible. I hate it when we fight. Luckily we don't do it very often, this may have been our third or fourth fight ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We worked it out, of course, and everything was fine again. We ordered a pizza and watched some tv before going to bed. The fight alone would have been enough to ruin my weekend, but then, something even worse happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew how to put a long post behind a link that you would have to click to read it. Because I would definitely put one here. Since I don't know how to do that with blogger, I'm filling the space with this nonsense to heighten the tension :) it's working, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, at about 2:30am, the phone rang. I checked the Caller ID screen and it was my youngest sister. I answered but there was no one on the other line. I assumed that she was drunk-dialing people and that she called me by mistake. Because everyone knows not to call me after my bedtime unless they want to be killed. I hung up the phone and less than a minute later, it rang again. It was her again and the first thing she said was, "I have some bad news." Scary. Seriously, I thought someone had died or something. It was a completely irrational thought though, because no one would charge her with calling me to tell me that someone had died. Hell, it was 2:30, I wasn't thinking rationally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing she said was, "I'm calling to tell you that Stephen and Hannah were just arrested for underage drinking." My response was, "I assume you're joking." but unfortunately, she wasn't. Even more unfortunately, they had been drinking at her house. Right after she told me that, call waiting kicked in and it was Hannah, calling from the police station. She was crying and was so upset that the police officer had to take the phone from her and tell me what was going on. He said that they were going to give her a breathalyzer test and that afterwards, we could pick her up and take her home. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, we got dressed and drove about three blocks to the police station. Since we live so close, we had to wait around for them to finish whatever it was that needed finishing. One of the arresting officers came out to talk to us, said that they picked up 9 underage drinkers, including my two. He told us that my brother-in-law said that they didn't buy the alcohol for the kids, but providing them a place to drink is also against the law. That really pissed me off, that he was trying to get out of trouble when both of them had clearly been doing something wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked the police officer what would happen to the "hosts" and he said that they weren't able to bring them in because the three squad cars there were full and they didn't have room. He also said that it was up to the prosecutor to decide whether to press charges against each of them for each underage drinker or whether there would just be one charge for the whole thing. Personally, I'm still so mad, I hope they get them for each one. If I was able to vote...well, lucky for both of them, I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took the kids home and tried to go back to sleep but by then, neither of us really felt tired. We talked for a long time and then watched some tv before we were able to fall asleep again. Even then though, I didn't sleep well. Too much bad stuff was running through my head and I eventually gave up. Our plans for Saturday were pretty much ruined, even though we still kept them, because I was too angry and tired to enjoy myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that kids drink, lots of kids. Hell, we all did it. Except for you, Ian. I'm not really angry at them for that. I am angry at Hannah for lying to us about where she was (she was supposed to be spending the night with a friend), but we've all lied about that too. I am glad that they got caught, because being arrested and handcuffed and taken to the police station probably makes a bigger impression than listening to me bitch about it. At least I know it did for Han. She was really upset, even the next morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do wish that she didn't have to go to court. I expect that they will put her on probation for a while, which sucks, even if she does deserve it. And of course, she's grounded, which means that she has to miss the concert she was planning to attend this Saturday. As for Stephen, there's not a lot I can do with him. He is an adult, technically. I can lecture him about drinking, which I did, but I have no control over what he does outside the house. It will be a long time before I trust him, even longer before Hannah is allowed to go anywhere with him. I am a lot more calm and rational about it today. It happened, and it sucked. But I'm trying not to overreact. So far, I'm succeeding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The exception is my sister. And her husband. Thankfully, their boys were spending the night with grandpa. Because if those babies had been there while they were having a stupid party, I would have kicked her ass. We haven't spoken since she called me to tell me about the kids. I don't plan on speaking to her for a long time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so furious with her, not just for what happened Friday night but for the other times when she knew Hannah was drinking and didn't tell me. I'm angry at her for being so pathetic and immature that she and the loser she married think it's acceptable and cool to party with Stephen and his friends, who are almost all under 21. I'm pissed off that two months ago she looked me right in the eye and lied when she said she would keep an eye on Hannah and let me know if she was doing something I wouldn't want her to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm disappointed that she would rather "be cool" than be honest and mature and an adult. I'm angry that she not only turned a blind eye but also helped and encouraged the children to drink and hide it from their parents. I feel so hurt and betrayed and ashamed of her. Our friendship is severely damaged, possibly past the point of repair. It might be too soon to tell, but I can't ever imagine not feeling the way I do right now to some degree. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the weekend was uneventful. Casey got home Sunday night at about 6:30. Brian and I were grateful that she wasn't there to see or hear about all the other bullshit that was going on. She had a good time with her friend and was completely worn out. I can't wait to see the pictures. Man, this was a long post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who is still here should visit my renter (click the thumbnail below my profile). I'm sure she has a much more entertaining post for you to read, once your eyeballs stop burning from staring at my lavender blog for the last hour :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114409232608152472?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114409232608152472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114409232608152472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-had-terrible-weekend-thanks-for.html' title=''/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114357685051982707</id><published>2006-03-28T14:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-29T11:28:45.210-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Class of '86</title><content type='html'>Apparently, my 20-year high school reunion is this summer. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it's been that long at all. Other times, it feels like it's been a lifetime. I'm definitely not going. Not just because it's 1,200+ miles away. Not just because it would put me in extremely close proximity to the rest of my family. Not just because there are only about 10 people from school I would even be the slightest bit interested in seeing again and half of them were in a different graduating class. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's mostly because my high school years were such an unhappy time for me. School itself was no problem, and I had some great friends, but everything else in my life was a nightmare. I was miserable, suicidal most days and faking it the rest. I spent so much time living in my own head, I honestly don't know how I even managed to get out of bed sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;School was an escape for me, if you can believe that. It was the only place I could go where I felt protected, where I didn't have to try to stay invisible. I still hid away a lot, but not from everyone. And it was so easy to pretend to be someone else, someone who liked herself and had opinions worth hearing and was smart and funny and nice. I could pretend to be the person I wished I was, and no one from home was around to point and laugh at my attempt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really recognize myself when I think about the person I was in high school. And that's a good thing. I can't even imagine what kids I knew then must have thought of me. I'm fine with not finding out though. The people that mattered already know everything now, whether they wanted to or not. The rest of them can think of me as they did in high school, if they think about me at all. I doubt if they'll even notice I'm not there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114357685051982707?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114357685051982707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114357685051982707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/03/class-of-86.html' title='Class of &apos;86'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114349567984428165</id><published>2006-03-27T16:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T21:36:39.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>another renter</title><content type='html'>I decided not to use Blog Explosion anymore sometime during Utenzi's stay here. Because it's getting annoying with all the mandatory 30-second stays on the Blog Rocket and Battle of the Blogs. I mean, seriously, enough already. But if I just use it for traffic exchange (which is what I originally intended to use it for anyway) then it's not so bad. Also, I kinda' like the Rent My Blog thing. So, I'm back. And I have a new renter: Bloggin' Bizatch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her most recent post is about Boone's Farm (completely cheap, hillbilly wine for those of you not familiar). How could I resist that kind of tenant? She has also been blogging about some of the other things that have been on my mind fairly recently (Botox, my upcoming high school reunion, Brokeback Mountain and Starbucks to name a few), so it was a pretty easy choice. You should check her out by clicking on the thumbnail below my profile. All the cool kids are doing it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114349567984428165?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114349567984428165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114349567984428165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/03/another-renter.html' title='another renter'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114347954499982412</id><published>2006-03-27T11:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-27T12:12:25.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I know, I know</title><content type='html'>My blog is in desperate need of an update. Once-a-week posts are kinda' pathetic, don't you think? I don't know why I'm not writing, I always have that problem when things are going well. I'm a prolific writer when I'm miserable. Apparently when I'm happy I've got nothing to say. I know I'm not the only one though :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls are on Spring Break this week, which is nice for them. The weather is supposed to be great too. I wish adults could have Spring Break. I would love a week off from work as a family. That would kick so much ass. Casey is going to &lt;a href="http://www.biltmore.com/"&gt;the Biltmore Estate&lt;/a&gt; over the weekend with a friend of hers. She is pretty excited about that. Hannah isn't doing anything special, just hanging out with some friends and relaxing, I guess. Hopefully they both enjoy the break, that really is the important thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother moved out last weekend, and the boy moved back in. His roommates were leaving the house and he couldn't stay by himself so he's sleeping on the couch again, which sucks. I wish we had a room for him, but we just don't. And no one wants the girls to share a room. He should get the cast off his hand tomorrow so he can finally get back to work. Surprisingly he's looking forward to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had dinner with my sister and her family and my parents last night. Dinner was delicious, the conversation could have been better. Since my sister and I are "the responsible ones" in the family, we had the pleasure of discussing funeral arrangements, what to do with their ashes, what to do if he dies before her, etc. I also learned that my mother is no longer able to work, per instructions from her neurologist, and that she was supposed to be on the Alzheimer's medication (Aricept) a year ago but no one was with her at the doctor's appointment and she forgot all about it. Nice one. Oh yeah, to make things even better, Casey was sitting at the table the whole time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's time to think about what we're going to do when the two of them can't take care of each other anymore. And I think that time is fast approaching. He isn't physically well and she isn't mentally well. He gets more frail every day and even his memory is failing slightly. Convincing them that they might need to move to a nursing home or assisted living facility in the near future should be lots of fun. Can't wait for that discussion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114347954499982412?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114347954499982412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114347954499982412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-know-i-know.html' title='I know, I know'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114287255221454207</id><published>2006-03-20T11:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-20T11:35:52.273-05:00</updated><title type='text'>busy weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Busy, but good. Friday night we went to watch my brother-in-law's band play. Brian got up and played two songs with them. He was amazing, I am always so proud of him and impressed by how talented he is. He had a great time onstage (I have pictures) but we had to leave early-ish because Saturday was the District Science Fair. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;We got home shortly after midnight and had to get up at 6:30 the next morning. Bleh. That really sucked and all three of us were tired all day. Casey didn't win an award, so she's not going to the State Science Fair but she didn't seem too disappointed about it. She really was tired from having to sit in the gym from 8:15 to 2:15 that day. I really don't blame her. She said that she wasn't going to participate next year but I'm sure that was just the lack of sleep talking. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Brian and I had to find something to do while she was busy so we did a lot of shopping (his favorite thing to do :). We did find some good bargains and bought a couple of things for our godsons and the girls so that was cool. We saw AJ Hawk and Bobby Carpenter (Ohio State Buckeyes football players - I have pictures) at the mall and that made Brian a little happier about being there. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was nice, having some time all to ourselves. We stopped for coffee and talked and had a nice long lunch and talked. I really missed Casey but I did enjoy being alone with Brian for a few hours. We hardly ever get to do that anymore, we almost always have plans or are at home with the girls. I'm going to try to remember to make time just for the two of us. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Saturday was also Stephen's 19th birthday. So after we got home and took naps, we went to his house to wish him a happy birthday and then my sister brought the babies over to hang out for a while, which is always fun. Casey and I went to bed pretty early that night. We were both still really tired. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sunday was pretty relaxing, except for when I had to take Stephen to Convenient Care at noon because he had injured his hand Friday night. He and his friends decided to have a "St. Patty's Day brawl" and he punched his cousin in the shoulder (in fun). He may have fractured a bone in his hand. So it's in a splint and he has the next three days off from work. It's his right hand too so he can't write or play video games on the computer or play guitar. We have to go back to our doctor in a week or so to see how it's doing. If it's still sore, there's a good chance that something is broken or cracked. The ER doctor said that because of the swelling, they couldn't be 100% sure. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The rest of the day was a typical Sunday. We did some housework and some laundry, Brian did the grocery shopping because he is just that awesome. We watched the Buckeyes lose their game, ate a yummy dinner and watched FOX until it was time for bed. This week should be relatively calm, maybe even a little boring. But we've got some fun plans for this weekend. I'll have pictures :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114287255221454207?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114287255221454207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114287255221454207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/03/busy-weekend.html' title='busy weekend'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114243324594792625</id><published>2006-03-15T09:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-15T09:35:19.903-05:00</updated><title type='text'>blank</title><content type='html'>I don't know why I'm posting today. I can't think of anything to write about. Oh well, that has never stopped me before!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Casey and her friends did such a good job at the DI tournament. Their skit was very cute and they were very outgoing and seemed to be having fun. They were there for pretty much the whole day and she was completely worn out afterwards. She also had a choir concert on Monday, which was nice. This weekend is the district Science Fair. After that, I think we get a small break from Casey's activities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian has been really busy too. He's in the office almost full-time at work now. We're both excited about that! I really need to send in some pictures for his desk or something. I'm sure it's still pretty empty and plain. He's been working a lot of overtime, which is good for our bank account, but I hate it when he's gone so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's also been practicing with my brother-in-law's band for the last few weeks so he's gone in the evenings sometimes too. Actually, he's playing a few songs with them at their St. Patrick's Day show so that will be very cool. I think he's even singing a little. I can't wait!!! I'm glad he's still playing music and hanging out with people he likes but I miss him when he's not around. I'll be okay though. It's probably good for me or something :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a lot is going on with Hannah, or me. I'm sure we sound boring and lazy, maybe we are. But personally, I enjoy not having a lot to do sometimes. I like having quiet evenings at home, reading or scrapbooking or watching television or playing cards with the kids. I wish we could have more of those nights honestly. Then again, if we did, I'd probably wish for more excitement. There's just no pleasing some people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps - It's Utenzi's last day here. Click the thumbnail under my profile to visit his blog. He's got a great post up today about a recent segment on 60 Minutes. Very interesting...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114243324594792625?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114243324594792625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114243324594792625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/03/blank.html' title='blank'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9418425.post-114228701644247909</id><published>2006-03-13T16:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T16:56:56.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>F*ck Blender</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://music.aol.com/home/blender/dead_rock_stars"&gt;The 50 Most Awesomely Dead Rock Stars&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not to spoil it for you but Selena ranks higher that George Harrison? Notorious B.I.G. ranks higher than Elvis and John Lennon? What a bunch of crap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9418425-114228701644247909?l=occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114228701644247909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9418425/posts/default/114228701644247909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://occasionalmelancholia.blogspot.com/2006/03/fck-blender.html' title='F*ck Blender'/><author><name>Michelle</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_qXT6v_TKN3g/SRBWaXbJl5I/AAAAAAAAAPU/wwX_0pXcWZE/S220/2703316381_16c63e5a23_s.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
