<?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-5464323</id><updated>2011-07-14T20:36:56.781-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Private. Do not forward.</title><subtitle type='html'>Read the rules or walk away now.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>126</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-109763376312228165</id><published>2004-10-12T21:10:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-10-12T22:16:03.123-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MIASo sorry that I haven't kept you up to date on the stylings of my life recently.  But my life is so terribly boring that not even I, with my razor-sharp wit, can make it seem interesting.  Let's see, you know that I got a promotion at work.  That lead to lots n' lots of extra responsibility.  There wasn't a whole lot more work involved, just an official-ness to go along with all the work </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/109763376312228165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/109763376312228165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_10_01_archive.html#109763376312228165' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108985517113990343</id><published>2004-07-14T20:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-07-14T22:05:56.960-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hanging CommitteeI'm on the Official Hanging Committee. ("On the Brute Squad? You *are* the Brute Squad!") Last weekend, I went to Savannah for the summer gallery art show. The art association has a new president (there's a new one each year). So, technically since it is July, she's not really new. However, she decided to institute new hanging rules for this show. She's designed all these new </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108985517113990343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108985517113990343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108985517113990343' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108985239467087590</id><published>2004-07-14T20:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-07-14T20:46:34.670-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Saved by My PinkyWe don't have a lot of choices for lunch spots around our office. Today, we ate at "the Mexican place." I'm trying to think how I can accurately describe this place...It is attached to a no longer functioning hotel. The hotel looks like it was a pretty scary place back in the day. Today, it is downright creepifying. The place was "renovated" a few years ago. Translation - they</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108985239467087590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108985239467087590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_07_01_archive.html#108985239467087590' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108691835173497855</id><published>2004-06-10T21:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-06-10T21:45:51.733-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I don't rightly know what to make of thatSomething that has been in the works for over two years came to fruition today. Well, it technically happened last Friday, but it was announced to our staff today. My promotion came through.There's a long story to this. It includes lots of hurt feelings and bitter, bitter anger. But that's all water under the bridge, now. For me, at least. For others? </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108691835173497855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108691835173497855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_06_01_archive.html#108691835173497855' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108561857360493663</id><published>2004-05-26T20:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T20:42:53.603-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>American Idol FinaleOf course I have to comment on this...It amazes me that E! actually did a red carpet show for this affair. Thankfully they did not unleash Joan &amp; Melissa Rivers on the Idol crowd. But it cracks me up that this finale is being treated like an awards show.All the celebrities seem to want Fantasia to win.I missed my shot to be on the finale. They let people in to the Georgia</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108561857360493663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108561857360493663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108561857360493663' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108559767362971089</id><published>2004-05-26T14:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-26T14:54:33.630-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Proper WarningShe Walks on Her Hands called me today to let me that she's coming town and would like to stay with me. These kinds of phone calls normally cause instant panic in me. We've been through the whole story about how bad I am at keeping Stinky Garbage Trailer clean. Well, it's really, really, really, really bad right now. The garbage is outside, not stinking. But the place is a </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108559767362971089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108559767362971089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108559767362971089' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108552767749201354</id><published>2004-05-25T19:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-25T19:27:57.493-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Seen and HeardI don't have much to blog about. So I thought I'd mention some commercials that have caught my attention over the last week.  Huh?  (Just read on.)The first is a great TV commercial from one of the credit card companies. Or maybe it's from a bank about their check cards. Either way, there are several versions of this commercial out right now. It's the ads that talk about special </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108552767749201354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108552767749201354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108552767749201354' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108533227507919702</id><published>2004-05-23T12:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-23T13:51:07.543-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>That PersonIsn't it funny how we have an image of ourselves and an opinion of what we deem pathetic behavior and we never blend the two? I mean, things we do may seem pathetic (or geeky) to other people, but as long as we're not crossing our own lines of patheticness, we're OK. Let me illustrate.He Does No Wrong really likes weather. He's facinated by it. He watches The Weather Channel for fun.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108533227507919702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108533227507919702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108533227507919702' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108508796862077513</id><published>2004-05-20T17:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-20T18:23:49.736-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Closet SingerI'm getting a little taste of my own medicine these days. In the email message (or his Last Will and Testament) to several people in the company, Joe included this line, "To Unnamed Programmer I leave my cube, eventually you’ll learn to block out Meredith’s singing and to ignore her when she starts talking about Jeff Buckley." Yes, yes. I sing along to the Muzak. I can't help it. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108508796862077513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108508796862077513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108508796862077513' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108500970429093300</id><published>2004-05-19T19:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T19:35:04.290-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Serious PhotographersAs I'm sure you've noticed, I'm a funny girl. I love making people laugh. I bet the first sentence in this post made you laugh. Admit it. You chuckled. At least you grinned. Come on, give me an eye roll...Anyway, I'm taking a class at a local photography school. The school is fun and everyone I've met there is pretty laid back. This is my fourth class.  The first two </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108500970429093300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108500970429093300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108500970429093300' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108493490378277413</id><published>2004-05-18T21:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-18T22:48:23.783-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>It's Self Explanatory!So, there is one story from the Renaissance Festival that is worth relating on its own.First, a little background for any who are unfamiliar with the Renaissance Festival. It's a "fair" based on England during the Middle Ages. Come to think of it, the name Renaissance is a little misleading. Renaissance makes me think of the Italian Renaissance: da Vinci, Michaelangelo, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108493490378277413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108493490378277413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108493490378277413' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108476077333898683</id><published>2004-05-16T22:25:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-05-19T09:44:13.110-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Catchin' UpJoe Samurai no longer works with me. Friday was his last day. It was painful. In the extreme. Oh well. He's going on to a better job. We had planned a surprise baby shower for The Axe. It was supposed to be next Friday. That day ended up not being convenient for a lot of reasons, mostly due to Joe's leaving. So we combined the surprise shower and Joe's going away lunch. Joe's the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108476077333898683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108476077333898683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_05_01_archive.html#108476077333898683' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108130622536796784</id><published>2004-04-06T22:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-06T22:53:08.483-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Well, I did own rabbits as a kidEvidently, I was a kindred spirit with my rabbits.  Or at least, one of my coworkers thinks so.  </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108130622536796784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108130622536796784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108130622536796784' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108119069972049028</id><published>2004-04-05T14:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2004-04-05T16:39:48.246-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm the Cranky Old Lady Down the StreetI'll never have 12 cats, but I think I'm well on my way to being the cranky old lady down the street.  I always thought that I liked to hear the pitter-patter of little feet.  I also thought that I liked the sound of children's laughter.  It turns out that I don't.The people who live next door to me have a young kid.  I don't know how old.  (I don't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108119069972049028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108119069972049028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_04_01_archive.html#108119069972049028' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108069969302814674</id><published>2004-03-30T21:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-30T21:24:09.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This Cracks Me UpI couldn't care less about George Bush.  I don't even know if these statements are real.  They're just really funny, so I thought I'd post them for your enjoyment."The inhabitants of Greece are Greecians". George W. Bush "The French don't have a word for `Entrepreneur`". George W. Bush "The vast majority of our imports come from outside the country". George W.Bush "The </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108069969302814674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108069969302814674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108069969302814674' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108061866146377223</id><published>2004-03-29T22:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-29T22:53:37.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Don't miss my comments at the end...Russia Bans Religious GroupBy Sergei BlagovCNSNews.com CorrespondentMarch 29, 2004Moscow (CNSNews.com) - A Russian court has banned the activities of the Jehovah's Witnesses in Moscow, intensifying a drive against what authorities view as "totalitarian sects" with a pro-U.S. agenda.The decision drew a strong response from the U.S. State Department, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108061866146377223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108061866146377223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108061866146377223' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108027243771441698</id><published>2004-03-25T22:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-25T22:43:08.890-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Planets are in AlignmentNot metaphysically or supernaturally.  The five planets that we can see with our naked eyes are literally in alignment so that we can see them all in the sky at the same time.  Of course, this is the case for us in the Northern Hemisphere, I'm not sure if Reni will be able to see them.  Evidently this cosmic show will continue for the next 2 weeks.  Then it's going on</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108027243771441698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108027243771441698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108027243771441698' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108018483116607606</id><published>2004-03-24T22:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-24T22:23:01.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>My name is NickSo I was thinking about the post I wrote yesterday about giving our new people blog names.  I've always been pretty good at picking nicknames for people that were never intended to reach the ears of the namee.  I'm cursed with a wicked wit.  Well, not really wicked, but more wicked than I am comfortable with.  I may have told some of these stories before, but I thought I'd rehash </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108018483116607606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108018483116607606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108018483116607606' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-108009477156452880</id><published>2004-03-23T21:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-23T21:25:21.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What to say?So what is there to blog about when I work all the time and watch TV the rest?  Work:We've hired a ton of new people at work.  We finally hired the guy who has been temping in our department for a couple of months.  He's great.  He fit in immediately.  He doesn't have a nickname for this blog yet...  Oh yes he does!  I made him take the personality test.  I expected him to fall </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108009477156452880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/108009477156452880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#108009477156452880' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107888762631267652</id><published>2004-03-09T22:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-09T22:02:42.060-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>and you thought I forgot...Earlier, I promised a post about grocery shopping.  Well, I know that had you on the edge of your seat, so I'll quench your curiosity.  There is a website that lists coupons from the AJC Sunday circulars.  It combines that with the sales at Kroger and Publix.  The result is a listing of items that you can buy and the percentage that you save.  Some of the items are </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107888762631267652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107888762631267652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107888762631267652' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107888288405007140</id><published>2004-03-09T20:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-09T20:44:31.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Pens for SaleSo there's this dude on American Idol that has a great voice.  He's famous now because Simon hates him and tells him that he looks like a "pen salesman."  I'm not sure what pen salesmen look like, but I am sure that I love his voice.  He plays guitar, which is more musical talent than most of the contestants have.  Every time he has sung, he has done a different style of song.  But </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107888288405007140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107888288405007140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107888288405007140' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107888203420003068</id><published>2004-03-09T20:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-09T20:29:29.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Speaking of eating outPerhaps you don't order out and pick up food as often as I do, but I'll ask for your opinion anyway.  I hate to shop for groceries.  (Though I will make a post about that later, or above if you just read down the page.)  I'm also typically hungry when I get home from work.  I rarely have the patience to cook after getting home.  If I were Ward Cleaver, all that would be of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107888203420003068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107888203420003068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107888203420003068' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107888134010783351</id><published>2004-03-09T20:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-09T20:29:39.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Reasoning Un-abilityDuh....  I went to pick up dinner from a restaurant the other night.  As I handed the girl my check card to pay for it, the girl gave me a golden nugget of "wisdom." She noticed that I did not have my photo on the card. I made small talk about how I've never gone in to the bank to get my photo taken so they keep sending me replacement cards without a photo. She thought that </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107888134010783351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107888134010783351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107888134010783351' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107871000332221956</id><published>2004-03-07T20:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-07T20:42:16.466-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Just shut up already!Does anyone else hate the KFC commercials as much as I?  They are so annoying.  There's one where an office full of people are talking about the "Kitchen Fresh Chicken" that someone left in the break room.  Everyone is furiously making their way to the break room while ranting and raving about "Kitchen Fresh Chicken."  It's so annoying.  It's not an easy phrase to repeat.  </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107871000332221956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107871000332221956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107871000332221956' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107870919022053496</id><published>2004-03-07T20:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-07T20:30:11.420-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Freakish MuseumI had my hair colored, or "highlighted", Saturday evening.  I returned to the girl who did it last June.  This is only the second time that she has seen me.  But I was very impressed that she remembered little things about me.  While she was wrapping up my hair, she asked how my "little curly hair" was doing.  She was almost finished with me, so I took that to mean that she had </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107870919022053496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107870919022053496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107870919022053496' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107870817793917266</id><published>2004-03-07T20:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-07T20:11:51.653-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Shooting the FuzzI shot more photos of my friends that are in a band.  We went to a park not too far from Stone Mountain.  It's got lots of granite outcroppings.  It was a gorgeous day, but it was really windy.  Kristy, the drummer, has very long hair.  It would not behave with all the wind.  It was pretty funny actually, like her hair was the fifth member of the band.  We shot a lot of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107870817793917266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107870817793917266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107870817793917266' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107845490285704021</id><published>2004-03-04T21:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-04T21:52:13.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Is this thing on?My phone finally crapped out.  Since July it has been doing this thing where it increases in volume uncontrollably.  It started with just the volume of a call while I was speaking to someone.  I would start out the call with the set on volume 2 or 3 and it would increase to 8 (the highest).  I could not do anything to get it back down to a normal level.  Eventually that changed </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107845490285704021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107845490285704021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107845490285704021' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107845236158972866</id><published>2004-03-04T21:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-03-04T21:08:50.403-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Head Room in SpaceSo I was watching Star Trek: The Next Generation the other day.  The episode was called "A Matter of Time."  There was a really familiar guest star on the show.  He was the guy who played "Max Headroom," Matt Frewer.  (What a weird show.)  The more I watched him, the more I thought, "Huh, he was kinda cute.  But who does he remind me of?"  Well, I never watched Max Headroom.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107845236158972866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107845236158972866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_03_01_archive.html#107845236158972866' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107811432668721810</id><published>2004-02-29T23:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-29T23:15:47.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'd like to thank...12,000 people.  Come on, already.  "The Academy" needs to do a better job with the telecast of the Oscars.  It's 11:00 and I've only seen 2 awards that I care about.  They should start this thing at 4:00.  I know if I was one of the people winning an obscure category, I would want to thank everyone I've ever met.  I'd probably want to thrown in a couple of "nanny nanny boo </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107811432668721810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107811432668721810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107811432668721810' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107785506374344787</id><published>2004-02-26T23:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-26T23:13:07.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A nice blanket of snowSnow fell in Atlanta last night. It left ice on the roads. Traffic was dangerous. I awoke to radio DJs telling me not to go out on the roads if I didn't have to. Well, who am I to argue? I hit snooze and rolled over. What better excuse do I need for sleeping in?All the talk of our "blanket" of snow reminded me of one of my favorite poems ~ "Very like a Whale" by Ogden </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107785506374344787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107785506374344787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107785506374344787' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107730959405804816</id><published>2004-02-20T15:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-20T15:41:51.013-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Look Ma, No Wires!I've done it.  I've gone wireless.  Yay for me.  I am the next to last person in my department to get a laptop.  Remember, Change is BAD.  But after all the "horse and buggy girl" comments from my co-workers I had to make the upgrade.So now my set up at work is: laptop in a docking station, flat panel monitor, KVM (keyboard, video, mouse) switch to connect to other machines </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107730959405804816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107730959405804816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107730959405804816' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107671527571687709</id><published>2004-02-13T18:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-13T18:38:33.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>By the way...I've been silent for a long time.  It has been very busy at work.  AND all that time I spent in the House of Ill caught up with me.  I came down with Bronchitis and was sick for about two weeks.  I was so pitiful.  I finally went home from work early one Friday because I was about to pull a muscle from coughing.  When the guy two cubicles over threw me a whole bag of cough drops, I </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107671527571687709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107671527571687709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107671527571687709' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107671404944737047</id><published>2004-02-13T18:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-13T18:20:40.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Embarassing StoriesSo, I read something yesterday that made me giggle.  It reminded me of a potentially embarrassing moment of T's.  I want to tell her story, but in all honesty it is not as funny as my own similarly embarrassing story.  So, I'll tell her story first and then tell mine.In photography, there is a certain type of film that produces really cool images.  I've been interested in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107671404944737047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107671404944737047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107671404944737047' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107577194166443937</id><published>2004-02-02T20:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2004-02-02T20:34:00.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I may not be going places......but I've been places.  Mike posted a cool site on his blog a few days ago.  World 66 is a site that will color in the list of states that you've been to.  I included states that I've driven through on my way to other destinations.  I may not have spent much time in them, but driving the whole length of the state should count for something...  I did not include </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107577194166443937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107577194166443937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2004_02_01_archive.html#107577194166443937' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107263139182287112</id><published>2003-12-28T12:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-28T12:10:55.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Where have I been?I've been stressed and busy and sick.I've had a large decision weighing on my mind. I finally decided against it, but I can't go into details - there are eyes everywhere. I believe I chose well. But I still have to resolve the problem that this was a possible solution for ... Was that vague enough?My sister, She Walks on Her Hands, is determined to help me solve my problem.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107263139182287112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107263139182287112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107263139182287112' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107184229573476078</id><published>2003-12-19T08:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-19T08:59:09.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Me-n-IsaacI thoroughly understand Newton's First Law of Motion: Objects at rest tend to stay at rest.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107184229573476078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107184229573476078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107184229573476078' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-107055952434823287</id><published>2003-12-04T12:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-12-04T12:39:23.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Guest PostingI turned 31 this week. It was the day after my boss performed an upgrade on our main system. So, yeah, we spent the day resolving problems, some of which were unforeseen. The following day was the 50th b-day of another company member. One of his friends sent out an email to the entire company telling people to call the b-day boy. So today, the new 50 year-old sent out another </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107055952434823287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/107055952434823287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_12_01_archive.html#107055952434823287' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106971047092346555</id><published>2003-11-24T16:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-24T16:48:20.373-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Since the Ponderer Won't Ponder...I'll ask everyone to ponder on their own.1. How many bands/artists (and which ones) have you seen in concert more than once?If you include bands I've seen at free festivals, like the River Street Beach Music nights with the Swinging Medallions &amp; The Tams, I honestly can't count the number of times I've seen them ~ in the teens. I've paid to see Harry Connick,</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106971047092346555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106971047092346555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106971047092346555' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106881586832391412</id><published>2003-11-14T08:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-14T08:18:08.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No Russian Lovin'When I lived in Moscow, I used to get the funniest looks for eating while I was on the subway. I am a typical American. I grab food and go. I never saw signs prohibiting eating on the subway. Evidently, it was supposed to be "understood" that you don't eat on the subway. Whatever. Well, I wonder what kind of signs they'll put up for this new restriction...In an effort to raise</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106881586832391412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106881586832391412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106881586832391412' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106856776198494406</id><published>2003-11-11T11:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-11T11:22:39.520-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Blantant PlagiarismWhile flying this weekend, I read an article about kids and internet morals. I found the section on blogs particularly interesting.  It makes the point that I have failed to communicate through my rules.  I am providing the link to the article, but for your convenience I just ripped off the whole section and am posting it here (a practice that the writer strongly denounces in </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106856776198494406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106856776198494406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106856776198494406' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106825528283777005</id><published>2003-11-07T20:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-11-07T20:37:30.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Update from Sunny Orange CountyEverything is going well.  Really well.  I find Orange County to be far more laid back than I expected.  The guy at Borders who tried to help me find some books actually looked homeless.  He was really nice, but when he stepped out from behind the information desk to trot me over to the correct book section, I almost laughed at his attire.  He was wearing cords </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106825528283777005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106825528283777005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_11_01_archive.html#106825528283777005' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106761616009407756</id><published>2003-10-31T11:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-31T11:02:39.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hot TopicIt looks like my rant on the Don Miller Morning show and Barnes leaving 99x has generated a moderate amount of interest. I have completely random people stopping by to comment on the subject. It's nice to hear what others out there are thinking. I've also received a lot of hits from people searching on this topic.My search for good morning radio is depressing. NPR is great, but they </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106761616009407756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106761616009407756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106761616009407756' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106746326786898207</id><published>2003-10-29T16:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-29T16:34:26.953-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Sky is FallingAccording to NOAA, we're going to have bad solar storms today. Actually, by the time I'm posting this, they've probably already happened. You may have noticed your cell phone cutting out today. People as far south as Pennsylvania are supposed to be able to see some of the Northern Lights over the next couple of nights. I don't think we'll be able to see them all the way down </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106746326786898207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106746326786898207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106746326786898207' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106736984621790757</id><published>2003-10-28T14:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-28T14:39:33.633-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Living Life as a RatI have decided to systematically clean up my house. I was to begin last Saturday in my bedroom. I've actually kept it fairly neat over the last few months. But there's still tons of stuff to get rid of. What kind of stuff do I have to control? One of the best examples is a doozie (sp?).Way back in 1998 (yes, 5 years ago) I was helping install computers in our field offices.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106736984621790757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106736984621790757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106736984621790757' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106726717515706241</id><published>2003-10-27T10:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2003-10-27T10:07:35.950-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The End of an EraSteve Barnes left The Morning X on Friday. In fact, The Morning X left The Morning X on Friday. Barnes is going to Hollywood to film a violent movie. He will continue to pursue his acting career from now on. So that left an opening on the very popular 99x morning show. I thought they should try to get Rich back, but I have no idea if he's even available. My next choice is not </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106726717515706241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106726717515706241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106726717515706241' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106692048308149756</id><published>2003-10-23T10:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-23T10:49:20.783-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>How Continental, DahlingThis morning one of the girls at the office wanted someone to go pick up breakfast (and no it wasn't me, it was the one we affectionately refer to as "The Axe"). The Axe called every person in our department who had not yet made it in to the office. They either weren't coming in or weren't coming in until almost lunchtime.  The Axe couldn't send her only direct report </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106692048308149756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106692048308149756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106692048308149756' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106685659172780757</id><published>2003-10-22T17:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-22T17:03:11.833-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>An Easy but Funny PostYou know you are living in the year 2003 when:1. Your reason for not staying in touch with people is because they do  not have e-mail.2. You have a list of 15 phone numbers to reach your family of three.3. Your grandmother asks you to send her a JPEG file of your newborn  so she can create a screen saver.4. You pull up in your own driveway and use your cell phone to see</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106685659172780757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106685659172780757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106685659172780757' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106682998316959845</id><published>2003-10-22T09:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-22T09:39:53.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Photos of IrelandI finally have a decent amount of my color photos printed.  I still have one batch in at the lab and one more batch to turn in.  I'm pretty happy with them so far.  Now I just need to scan them and put them up on my website.  Then of course, I have to get the B&amp;W rolls done.At least I'm ahead of T.  I don't think she's been back to the lab to pick her first rolls up yet.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106682998316959845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106682998316959845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106682998316959845' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106648688743833735</id><published>2003-10-18T10:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-18T10:21:39.203-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Dream Deferred...No LongerI am now in possession of the means to fulfill a lifelong dream. Seriously, I've been waiting on this since 1983. I'm going to see all 5 original members of Duran Duran in concert!I've seen DD in concert twice, once at Lakewood and once at Center Stage. Both shows were great. But neither of them had all original members.  The last one didn't even have John Taylor on</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106648688743833735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106648688743833735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106648688743833735' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106642082894322783</id><published>2003-10-17T16:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-17T16:00:29.070-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Year of BloggingI was going to write this deep introspective look at how blogging has changed my life. It would have been marvellous. It would have knocked your socks off. But the unfortunate reality is that blogging hasn't changed my life one iota. Nothing has ever changed my life. I'm still the same old person I've always been. Boring. Boring. Boring. Sure I'm witty. But I've always been </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106642082894322783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106642082894322783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106642082894322783' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106639660161655936</id><published>2003-10-17T09:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-17T09:16:41.550-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Good Times, Good TimesI was pointed to a link by another blog that is pretty funny. It's an article on today's kids playing video games from my era. The kids are truly hysterical. You gotta read it.  Here are some excerpts to whet your appetite:About PongGordon: It doesn't even go over the net. It goes through it. I don't even think that thing in the middle is a net.Tim: My line is so </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106639660161655936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106639660161655936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106639660161655936' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106624913542677665</id><published>2003-10-15T16:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-15T16:20:15.110-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No Really, ThanksI haven't talked about it in a while, but even though I stopped the Weight Watchers program, I've continued to lose weight. Since I started trying to lose weight last October (or was it November?), I've lost almost 4 sizes. I haven't weighed in a while, so I don't know how much actual weight I've lost. But I'm really close to being in that 4th smaller size, in fact I am wearing </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106624913542677665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106624913542677665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106624913542677665' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106616392791147366</id><published>2003-10-14T16:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-14T16:39:09.516-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>All who are going to play along already haveI will now reveal the answers to the priorities test I took (and disagreed with) last Friday. Phone Ringing - CareerDoorbell - FriendsBaby crying - FamilyClothes - SexWater running - WealthWhatever. I guess love isn't a priority? Or is that supposed to be the same as sex? And since when do clothes hanging on the line represent sex? They seem </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106616392791147366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106616392791147366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106616392791147366' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106616323599381568</id><published>2003-10-14T16:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-14T16:38:59.296-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Web SearchesI just love seeing what web searches prompt hits on my blog. People are whacky. There are a few people who've searched for "armwrestling lady". There's at least one search result that is dirty and I'm not sure how my site qualified for it. One person wanted information on "tattle-tale coworker." And there are two people who hit my site looking for information on their favorite </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106616323599381568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106616323599381568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106616323599381568' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106613599027228598</id><published>2003-10-14T08:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-14T08:53:10.490-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>For Lil' Ol' Me?I got an interesting piece of spam today.  Here's the message:Dear Sir,I wish to request for your assistance in a financial transaction. I got your contact from the Ivorien chambers of commarce here in Abidjan,Cote d'ivoire.As a matter of urgency I would want to invest in Photography and Communications and alsoReal Estate Management in your country. But due to inexperience </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106613599027228598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106613599027228598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106613599027228598' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106605649648274307</id><published>2003-10-13T10:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-13T10:48:16.143-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Can I Get a PC that Will Put Ink Stains on My Fingers?I've been blogging for around a year now. I'll post about that later. For now, I want to go back to something that I missed out on last year - NaNoWriMo. This is a project for people who've always wanted to write a novel. Some people got together and decided they would each try to write a novel during the month of November. I would really </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106605649648274307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106605649648274307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106605649648274307' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106580937314133682</id><published>2003-10-10T14:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-10T14:10:18.780-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Huh...I took a priorities test today.  I don't like the answer it gave me.  I have a different explanation for why I chose the things I did than they give.  Let's see how you answer - no peeking at someone else's answers.We often get in some situations when we take decisions without a second thought and this is the right moment to find which kind of person we are, as this decision comes out </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106580937314133682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106580937314133682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106580937314133682' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106574514916216475</id><published>2003-10-09T20:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-09T20:19:09.040-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Not what you were expectingSo I've been ordered to put up new content. The thing I've been thinking of writing about since Monday will probably surprise most of you. But I can't get it out of my head.I was very sad to hear that Dan Snyder died Sunday night. I couldn't care less about hockey. And as sorry as I am that an apparently nice young man lost his life, I'm overwhelmed by what Danny </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106574514916216475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106574514916216475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106574514916216475' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106510421493885296</id><published>2003-10-02T10:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-02T10:16:54.940-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Gotta Love Cutting Edge TechnologyTo cut or not to cut? I heard on NPR yesterday that there is a drug that helps cardiovascular patients stem-off bypass surgery. Often, a person with angina goes through a few processes before having a full-on heart bypass. They have the balloon treatment where doctors shrink the "stuff" (that's the medical term) clogging the arteries. There is a slightly more </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106510421493885296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106510421493885296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106510421493885296' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106502273593041856</id><published>2003-10-01T11:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-10-01T11:38:55.540-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>What was I thinking?So back to the Ireland trip discussion. I believe I left you at Poulnabrone. After Poulnabrone, we made our way down to The Cliffs of Moher. A coworker told me not to miss these cliffs, he was very impressed by them last year. There were a ton of people at the Cliffs. The sky had not been too beautiful that day (this was the afternoon of the day we flew to Inishmore and got </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106502273593041856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106502273593041856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_10_01_archive.html#106502273593041856' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106461461877238734</id><published>2003-09-26T18:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-26T19:29:03.083-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>MORE!Take the 100 Acre Personality Quiz!I talk too much?  Huh...  I don't know about that.  And I'm certainly NEVER wrong.  :-)According to another site my DJ name is:DJ Broken Pork ChopGet your dj name @ Quiz Mediscover what candy you are @ quiz mefind your inner PIE @ stvlive.comTake the Medieval Career Quiz.Your distinct personality, The Merchant, might be found in most of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106461461877238734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106461461877238734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106461461877238734' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106446666629686397</id><published>2003-09-25T01:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-26T15:32:21.700-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Tests Tests TestsAnd MORE tests!  I love these online time-wasting tests!  So here are some that I've taken recently...Cor blimey, I taste like Tea.I am a subtle flavour, quiet and polite, gentle, almost ambient. My presence in crowds will often go unnoticed. Best not to spill me on your clothes though, I can leave a nasty stain. What Flavour Are You?This one gave me a secondary selection </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106446666629686397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106446666629686397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106446666629686397' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106440234823796321</id><published>2003-09-24T07:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-24T07:19:08.086-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>How Far is Too Farto fly for a concert?  My new musical obsession is an Irish guy named Damien Rice.  He played here on Sunday night.  I planned to go with a friend.  But as much as I love this friend, she tends to be the kind of person who agrees to do stuff and then backs out at the last minute.  I don't blame her for it, I think it's part of her personality.  Anyway, I had at least one other </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106440234823796321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106440234823796321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106440234823796321' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106426723170432819</id><published>2003-09-22T17:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-22T17:47:11.396-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dilbert Returns (with a vengenence)This cartoon features Wally (my favorite Dilbert character) and a random office guy. Wally is sitting at his computer, the random guy walks up behind him to ask:Frame 1: Random Guy: "Wally, how do I handle the psychological pressure of a stalled career?" Frame 2: Wally: "Remember that when you reach for the stars, they're too far away, so it's hopeless." </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106426723170432819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106426723170432819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106426723170432819' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106424714631477036</id><published>2003-09-22T12:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-22T12:12:26.280-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm a Hard Person To Shop For...Now for the first time ever you can have a real celebrity call you or a friend for just $19.95. They can also deliver a brief customized message written by you for $29.95. Whether it's for a special occasion or just for the fun of it, there's no better way to impress a client, a sweetheart or a friend than to have a celebrity call. So place your order today. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106424714631477036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106424714631477036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106424714631477036' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106364511513597518</id><published>2003-09-15T12:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-15T12:58:35.196-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Greetings from OrlandoSo I'm in Orlando at a software conference this week. There's downtime right now so I'm a little bored. But in my career of attending software conferences this one is definitely always the most fun. We're going to MGM tonight and then to Epcot tomorrow night (all included in the cost of the convention). Anyone want me to bring home Goofy's autograph for you?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106364511513597518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106364511513597518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106364511513597518' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106364498776670864</id><published>2003-09-15T12:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-15T12:56:27.836-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Getting Better sortaI had the honor of seeing Reni and her husband Friday night.  They were in town for a little while and had some friends over to the place where they stayed. It was great seeing them, but also funny because we stay in touch pretty regularly. There were actually a lot of other people there that I haven't kept up with like I have with Reni. I saw her little brother and her </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106364498776670864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106364498776670864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106364498776670864' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106313276995414437</id><published>2003-09-09T14:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T14:39:29.890-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Please Do Not Climb on the TombAfter getting back to the mainland, I was ready to forget that the whole experience happened. It was noon and we were still in Galway. We headed for County Clare and Poulnabrone Dolmen. Poulnabrone was a place that I was very excited about. I can't explain why. It has something to do with it being so photogenic AND being an archeological site. I can't help but be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106313276995414437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106313276995414437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106313276995414437' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106313120991246204</id><published>2003-09-09T14:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T14:13:29.960-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Monday, Aug 25This was an eventful day. We started by waking up at like 6:00. We had to leave the house by 7:30. In my defense, this was the only morning that I made Tiana get out of bed before 9:00 to sightsee. Almost every other morning, we set the alarm for 8:30 and I got up to shower while she slept for another 30 or 40 minutes. And this particular morning we were going to see something that</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106313120991246204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106313120991246204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106313120991246204' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106311204361309847</id><published>2003-09-09T08:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-09T08:54:03.503-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm DyingI stayed home from work yesterday because Tiana gave me the cough she developed in Ireland.  It was with me all last week, but got worse over the weekend.  I finally got medicine and layed around my house all weekend.  Then I worked from home because I was still coughing too much yesterday.  But last night, I didn't cough during my sleep, I woke up and felt pretty good.  I got dressed </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106311204361309847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106311204361309847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106311204361309847' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106267592698007544</id><published>2003-09-04T07:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-04T07:45:26.880-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Links from Yesterday's PostsI meant to include links to the places that we visited.  So here they are for yesterday...The gloves that I bought (though the green doesn't really show up well)The Quiet Man bridgeCong Abbey</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106267592698007544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106267592698007544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106267592698007544' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106262146356717124</id><published>2003-09-03T16:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T16:56:41.893-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Sunday, Aug 24We ate breakfast in the dining room.  This was our first "Irish breakfast," cooked by an American transplant.  A traditional Irish breakfast consists of one fried egg, "bacon" which is really a slice of fried ham, two sausages, usually black and white "pudding" and brown bread.  That is the hot course.  Before the hot course, you can have a cold course of fruit, yogurt, and/or </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106262146356717124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106262146356717124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106262146356717124' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106261940778965095</id><published>2003-09-03T16:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-03T16:57:46.670-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Saturday, Aug 23 (con't)So actually, all that stuff in Ireland from the last entry happened on Saturday.  On the way back from Clifton Castle, Tiana decided to drive.  She did very well for her first time.  I did my best to not make her nervous.  I tried to only speak out when she was really going to hit a wall on my side or when we were in danger of being in a ditch from going off the road (</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106261940778965095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106261940778965095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106261940778965095' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106253373206972233</id><published>2003-09-02T16:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-02T16:15:32.100-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Friday, Aug. 22We flew out of Atlanta.  My suitcase was 62 pounds.  Delta limits international baggage to 70 pounds per piece.  I was warned not to buy too much stuff or there would be a $300 heavy baggage charge coming home.  YIKES!  We took off around 8:00 pm.  T and I each had sleep aids with us to help us sleep through the flight.  I didn't get much more than about 4 hours of sleep.  We were</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106253373206972233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106253373206972233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106253373206972233' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106250472070669662</id><published>2003-09-02T08:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-09-02T08:12:00.823-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Small Irish SummaryI'm back from Ireland in one piece.  I had a fabulous time.  I met some really nice people that I hope to keep in touch with, though most of them aren't Irish.  I didn't take nearly as many photos as I anticipated, but I think I will really like the ones I did take.  My luggage was WAY too heavy.  Driving on the left side of the road felt completely natural, like I'd been </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106250472070669662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106250472070669662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html#106250472070669662' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106146992538972948</id><published>2003-08-21T08:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-21T08:46:25.140-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>1One is the number of days leftUntil I begin my yearly questFor rainbows, shamrocks, and ruins.I've only packed my camera gear.I'll do the rest tonight, don't fear.I'll be ready tomorrow for Irish doin's.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106146992538972948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106146992538972948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106146992538972948' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106140625715605212</id><published>2003-08-20T15:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-20T15:04:17.120-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Continuing Muzak SagaSo the Muzak controller is kept in our server room.  Our server room door has a code lock on the door.  The guy in charge of Muzak doesn't know the code, so he has to get one of us to let him in.  About a week ago, he showed up at my desk asking to be let in the server room.  He seemed very annoyed.  It seems that he was tired of all the complaints coming in about the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106140625715605212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106140625715605212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106140625715605212' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106140368284070895</id><published>2003-08-20T14:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-20T14:21:22.833-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'd like to just pack up and ...The following request was posted to one of the email groups I read.  If any of you are not who you really claim to be, here's your chance to talk about your experience...Urgent!!The Observer Newspaper is looking to interview someone who has simply chosen to disappear one day from their regular home and job. It doesn't matter if you have ever returned home or</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106140368284070895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106140368284070895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106140368284070895' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106098724099626930</id><published>2003-08-15T18:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-15T18:40:37.930-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Lessons Learned or How Not to Buy FurnitureMy fiasco with ordering custom furniture is almost at an end.  During this process, I've learned some vital lessons.  I'll put those in bold as I tell my story/nightmare/saga you choose the word.In February 2002 I decided to spend some of my bonus money on a new bedroom suite.  I'd never had new furniture from a retail store (buying stuff you have to </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106098724099626930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106098724099626930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106098724099626930' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106097055784646073</id><published>2003-08-15T14:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-15T14:03:16.460-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>SevenToday is brought to you by the number 7. There are only 7 days left before I leave for Ireland!Irish: Seacht, Spanish: Siete, German: Sieben, Russian: Semh, Swedish: Sju, Scots: Seiven, Latin: VII, French: Sept, Portuguese: Sete, Morse Code: --...7 Brides for 7 Brothers is my favorite musical.Snow White lived with 7 dwarfs.  (The little slut or slut for littles.)For some reason there</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106097055784646073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106097055784646073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106097055784646073' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106095573921080139</id><published>2003-08-15T09:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-15T10:00:00.613-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Another odd dreamFirst, I dreamed that Reni was married to someone that I'd never met.  He was supposed to have pretty much the same personality as her real husband, but he looked completely different.  In fact, he looked a lot like her older brother, but shorter ~ which of course is completely opposite of her real husband.  It was strange.  He'd never met me before, but he knew all about me.  </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106095573921080139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106095573921080139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106095573921080139' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106088074353881777</id><published>2003-08-14T13:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-14T13:10:16.426-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>EightToday is brought to you by the number 8. There are only 8 days left before I leave for Ireland!Irish: Ocht, Spanish: Ocho, German: Neun, Russian: Vosemh, Swedish: Atta, Scots: Aicht, Latin: IIX, French: Huit, Portuguese: Oito, Morse Code: ---..Spiders have 8 legs.8 ball is the most common game of pool.The figure 8 is a basic ice skating pattern.8 days a week is how much The Beatles </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106088074353881777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106088074353881777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106088074353881777' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106077580587943890</id><published>2003-08-13T07:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-13T08:02:48.033-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>NineToday is brought to you by the number 9.  Why 9?  Because there are only 9 days left before I leave for Ireland.  Let's take a look at the significance of the number 9.Irish: Naoi, Spanish: Nueve, German: Neun, Russian: Devyat, Swedish: Nio, Finnish: Yhdeksän, Latin: IX, French: Neuf, Portuguese: Nove, Morse Code: ----.There are 9 planets in our solar system.Women are said to be </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106077580587943890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106077580587943890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106077580587943890' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106036680928492874</id><published>2003-08-08T14:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-08T14:20:09.283-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Unioning with the FamLast weekend I went to Charleston, SC for a family reunion.  It was the first one I'd been to in about 8 years.  My dad goes every year.  But the people who come to these things are his first cousins.  I get together with my first cousins all the time.  We have family gatherings in Savannah at least twice a year, not to mention all the weddings we've had this year.  This </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106036680928492874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106036680928492874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106036680928492874' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106020949811260305</id><published>2003-08-06T18:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-06T18:38:18.060-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Gasp! Eek! Shiver Me Timbers!Surfing the internet is such a good thing! After posting that quote about ruins, I wondered if Edward Rutherfurd had written anything new.  It's been a while since I last checked.  Well, blow me down!  His next book, due in March 2004 is on ... wait for it ... DUBLIN!!  Yay!  I'm so excited (can you tell?).  The man is a genius.  And if he continues in the same </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106020949811260305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106020949811260305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106020949811260305' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106019408950987189</id><published>2003-08-06T14:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-06T14:21:29.490-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>South America, Take It Away!I love being able to throw in titles of Bing songs.Checking the stats on my blog, I see that I've had a visitor from Argentina.  Not even my old blog had a visitor from South America.  Now I need Mexico, Africa (but we all know that's really covered) and Australia and the whole globe will be covered.  Everyone in the whole world will have read my private blog.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106019408950987189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106019408950987189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106019408950987189' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-106017780659182572</id><published>2003-08-06T09:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-06T18:40:17.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A Quote on RuinsIt's more like a passage, really.  It is from the book The Forest by one of my favorite authors, Edward Rutherfurd.  He writes really long complex books about the history of England.  This one is the history of the area they still call... New Forest.  It is between Salisbury (Stonehenge) and Southampton.  During his chapter on the end of Georgian times/the beginning of the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106017780659182572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/106017780659182572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#106017780659182572' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105974897456773388</id><published>2003-08-01T10:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-08-01T10:45:38.796-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I'm finally a trend setterI picked up this blogging habit from an ex-coworker. And I passed the bug on to T. I've got a few other regular readers, but haven't seemed to inspire any of them to take up a virtual stylus. (I'm actually very surprised Alyssa hasn't started a blog.  It could be volumes and volumes long by now.) The other day I was listening to NPR. They did a piece on Presidential </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105974897456773388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105974897456773388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_08_01_archive.html#105974897456773388' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105968766142908888</id><published>2003-07-31T17:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-31T17:41:01.326-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Can I be a spy?Tiana and I each took a photography class at a local college, but we took it separately.  I stopped by her class on the last night to see the teacher and show him some of my photos.  He thought that was cool and was a little freaked out that T and I were friends.  He swore that the whole time T was in his class, something about her reminded him of me.  (Naturally, we look so much </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105968766142908888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105968766142908888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105968766142908888' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105965679285221416</id><published>2003-07-31T09:06:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-31T09:06:47.830-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>No Sleep. I'm on No Sleep, Jerry!A little shout-out to T who loves to quote that line from Seinfeld.For the last few months I've become a 6-hour-per-night sleeper. This isn't exactly by choice, but it has just worked out that way. One of the reasons may be that I've been reading a lot and I get so wrapped up in my books that I won't go to sleep. Anyway, last night I finished my book, Jane and</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105965679285221416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105965679285221416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105965679285221416' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105957391430055582</id><published>2003-07-30T10:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-30T10:24:55.960-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Hey Look! It's Buckingham Palace!Was that supposed to be on this tour?According to CNN, foreign hijackers may be at work again before the end of the summer.  The government suspects targets will include locations in Great Britain, the US and Italy.  One report I listened to this morning specifically said that a strike is expected by September 3rd.So what am I doing on September 3rd?  </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105957391430055582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105957391430055582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105957391430055582' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105952632158878214</id><published>2003-07-29T20:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-29T20:54:30.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>I Got So Much PotentialI took another test over at emode. This one is titled "Your True Talent." It measures your abilites in 5 categories: Verbal, Spatial, Mechanical, Abstract Reasoning and Numerical ability.  I scored 10 out of 10 on Verbal, Spatial and Mechanical and 8 out of 10 on Abstract Reasoning and Numerical. Me thinks the test was too easy. The only one that I readily agree with is </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105952632158878214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105952632158878214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105952632158878214' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105951950607325290</id><published>2003-07-29T18:58:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-29T18:58:25.946-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Stupid Dripping PenI took an inkblot test over at emode.com.  Here's what it told me:~~~~~~~~~Your unconscious mind is driven most by Resistance You approach the world with your guard intact because unconsciously, and perhaps consciously, you want to maintain an element of control in your relationships with people. You tend to hold your private experiences just out of reach of others. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105951950607325290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105951950607325290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105951950607325290' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105949366222705972</id><published>2003-07-29T11:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-29T12:08:36.910-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>The Buzz on the FuzzA couple in my congregation are in a band. They played in public for the first time on Friday night. The band is called GB Fuzz (the won't say why they chose that name). I call their music Geek Rock. (Mitch actually thought that was a funny label.) They play Weezer, Cake, Joe Jackson, etc. Since I like all that music and I'm a geek, the label seems to fit.Anyway, they </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105949366222705972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105949366222705972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105949366222705972' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105942053767031326</id><published>2003-07-28T15:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-28T15:30:51.546-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Say It Ain't SoIt ain't so!Unfortunately, it is so.  Bob Hope died last night.  I'm not sure why I didn't hear about this on the news.  I had to read about it on Mike's blog.  I think you all know the special affinity I felt for this man.  He was pretty much the last professional link to my dear Bing.  Of course, Bing's wife, kids and grandkids are still alive.  But they aren't in the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105942053767031326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105942053767031326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105942053767031326' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105939926150692454</id><published>2003-07-28T09:34:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-28T09:34:21.510-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Have You Ever Had That Feeling?Last Thursday I stayed late at work. A woman from AP came over to get my help with something her co-worker had messed up. I headed over to see what I could do to resolve the situation. As it turned out, there wasn't anything I could do. But during my investigation, I did something that was even more ... well, let me describe it.I was working in a very </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105939926150692454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105939926150692454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105939926150692454' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105915546180176917</id><published>2003-07-25T13:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-25T16:34:57.773-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Memories Come Dancing into My HeadWe have Muzak at the office.  We're currently listening to an 80's station.  That's awesome when they play Duran Duran, INXS, REM, etc.  But we also have to wade through "Pink Cadillac" by Natalie Cole, a variety of Billy Ocean songs and, as I've ranted about before, Ashford &amp; Simpson.Today I heard a song that had me tapping my toes - "Neutron Dance" by the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105915546180176917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105915546180176917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105915546180176917' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105913622077979413</id><published>2003-07-25T08:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-25T08:30:20.786-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Dilbert ContinuedThis continued cartoon features Dilbert and Dogbert at home. Dilbert is working at his computer, Dogbert is sitting on the desk beside him. Frame 1: Dilbert: "There ... My resume is done. I will no longer be a slave to my company." Frame 2: Dogbert: "Yeah! Now you're a potential slave for a company in an undesirable location!" Frame 3: Dilbert:  "Was that sarcasm or </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105913622077979413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105913622077979413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105913622077979413' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105898467615662608</id><published>2003-07-23T14:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-24T06:55:25.690-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>More DilbertThis cartoon features Dilbert and Dogbert at home. Dogbert is reading a magazine while sitting on the back of the sofa.  Dilbert is just arriving home from work.Frame 1: Dilbert: "I'm tired of getting no respect at work." Frame 2: Dilbert: "I'm going to send my resume to a company that's located in a place I'd never want to live." Frame 3: Dogbert: "I wonder why they don't </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105898467615662608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105898467615662608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105898467615662608' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5464323.post-105895971489612491</id><published>2003-07-23T07:28:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2003-07-23T07:28:34.903-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Do You Wanna Dance, Kiss or Both?I've been listening to a lot of Baroque classical music lately. I've loved that style for a long time, but am now making an effort to learn about it. I've known that I could listen to pretty much anything written by Bach, Vivaldi, or Handel.  But I would like to actually be able to identify the pieces I'm listening to, beyond the obvious "Canon" by Pachelbel.  So</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105895971489612491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5464323/posts/default/105895971489612491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://privateistj.blogspot.com/2003_07_01_archive.html#105895971489612491' title=''/><author><name>Blog Fairy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09810359632613113977</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry></feed>
