<?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-6806390302768496977</id><updated>2011-08-24T07:07:44.617-07:00</updated><category term='road rage'/><category term='lady gaga'/><category term='rush hour'/><category term='barack obama'/><category term='food'/><category term='Dune'/><category term='air conditioning'/><category term='internet'/><category term='video'/><category term='anger'/><category term='dentist'/><category term='music'/><category term='pop culture'/><category term='rebecca vigil'/><category term='GLBT'/><category term='human rights'/><category term='same-sex'/><category term='car'/><title type='text'>The Sevold Sanctuary</title><subtitle type='html'>Truth, humor, a rant or two.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-2183974133522868589</id><published>2010-11-04T18:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T18:32:30.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Juliet's Birth Story</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The following is a deeply personal account of the birth of my daughter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;  &lt;h1&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Juliet’s Birth Story&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The plan was to have a natural birth.  Steve and I had taken a series of classes learning HypnoBirthing and we were so excited and confident that we would be able to have a beautiful, natural birth with no drugs or medical interventions.  On October 28, 2010 at 5:00AM, Steve and I checked into Foothill Presbyterian Hospital to be induced.  We had decided this would be the best for the baby as I was very quickly nearing 42 weeks pregnant and after that point the risks outweigh the benefits of keeping baby in much longer.  I was ready, scared and excited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;It took about 2 hours to get everything set up.  I changed into a hospital gown, gave a urine sample, had my blood drawn and had an IV put in my hand (my least favorite part).  My belly was hooked up to the fetal monitoring.  The top line would read the baby’s heartbeat and the bottom line measured the intensity of my contractions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="display: inline !important; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/TNNaQuzG7uI/AAAAAAAAAJM/tKEImMFZ8CY/s200/100_0407.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535867610455273186" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; Slightly after 7:00AM I was given Cytotec orally to start contractions.  It took a while for things to get moving along.  The contractions came and went, but they weren’t too intense.  I started&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; using the HypnoBirthing techniques I had learned and felt that I was handling them like a champ.  Steve and I passed the time by watching television, including some Canadian TV show called Edgemont that we’d never heard of, but starred a bunch of actors that we recognized from Battlestar Galactica.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I should mention that when I went in to be induced I was already 3 to 4 cm dilated and about 70 to 80% effaced.  Around 2:00PM, Dr. Williams showed up to check on the progression of my labor.  After an internal exam he stated that I was 7 cm dilated and about 85 to 90% effaced!  What good news!  I was in transition already!  Transition stage of labor is the most intense, but it is also the shortest.  I was so excited at the thought that our baby would arrive potentially later in the evening!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And so labor continued.  The intensity of the contractions picked up fairly quickly and I soon found myself not being able to talk through them.  I was faring okay until the night shift OB nurses came in after 7:00PM and gave me an internal exam to check my progress, stating that I was still at 7 cm dilated, possibly even 6 cm.  How could this be?  I had been laboring for so long!  Surely I must have been farther along than that.  Psychologically, this news set me back.  I was disappointed.  How much longer would I be in labor?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The clock was my enemy.  I kept staring at the hands of the clock tick on and on and there seemed to be no end to labor.  I was losing my shit.  The contractions were right on top of each other, coming every 2 minutes or so with an intensity that I didn’t know how to handle.  I tried laboring on the birthing ball that Steve and I had brought into the hospital.  It helped some, but I was unsure of myself and I started to fight the contractions.  I was screaming and crying and telling Steve that I couldn’t do this anymore.  I started saying things to Steve that almost convinced me that some demonic force had taken over my body due to all the hateful things I was saying!  I would jump quickly from “Fuck you and your face” to “I’m so sorry---I love you”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt; With every surge I started bemoaning about all the different foods I wanted to eat.  Kringla, pizza, lollipops, egg salad sandwiches…You name it, I wanted it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Time wore on.  I couldn’t handle the intensity of the contractions anymore.  I was operating on 4 hours of sleep and ice chips.  I was losing the battle.  I kept saying, “If only I could just get some sleep I could do this. I could do this.”  But I was insistent on not getting an epidural. No drugs for me, thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I was worn out. Around 11:00PM or so we decided to call the nurse in to check on my progress.  Perhaps I was close to delivering soon, I thought.  The nurse checked me: I was still at 7 cm.   All the nurses kept saying what a champ I was for going at it for so long and with no drugs. However, I knew I couldn’t keep this up for any longer.  I was an emotional and physical mess. Steve and I then decided the best thing for me and the baby would be a c-section.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I was so scared. I was terrified of having major abdominal surgery, but I just wanted to meet our baby.  Things were under way to prepare me for the c-section.  Steve was given hospital scrubs to put on and I was given an injection of terbutaline to slow down and/or stop the contractions.  The side effect of the injection or possibly my nerves made me start shaking uncontrollably.   One of the nurses shaved me. I was crying and looking at Steve and asking him if everything was going to be okay.  He reiterated to me that we were doing the right thing and that we had done everything we possibly could to get her here naturally.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I was wheeled down to the first floor for surgery.  Steve followed. I was given a pill and a small amount of liquid to drink just in case I got nauseated. I was then temporarily separated from Steve while they prepped me and gave me a spinal block. I was very thankful that I couldn’t see what they were doing and I was so glad that the anesthesiologist and the OR nurse were so kind and understanding with me. I was so scared.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The spinal block began to quickly take effect and soon I couldn’t feel my body from the waist down. It was like feeling the worst case of pins and needles ever; I felt completely numb. Steve was brought back in and I started to cry again—I was so happy to see him.  The c-section began.  I was told that I would feel pressure as they worked to bring my baby out.  It was the strangest feeling.  I could feel all this tugging.  No pain, just tugging.  No sooner had I felt the tugging then our daughter was born!  She was crying!  She was breathing!  She was finally here! I was delirious and ecstatic and in disbelief!  Juliet Amelia Medeiros was born at 12:57AM on October 29, 2010 weighing in at exactly 3200 grams or 7 pounds and 1 ounce.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I was beyond exhausted. Steve went to her side while I was wheeled away to the ICU for recovery.  I finally passed out from exhaustion while I was in the ICU.  I woke up slightly before 2:00AM still very tired and immediately asked the nurse when I could see my baby.  She said that they were about to wheel me back upstairs in a few minutes.  I didn’t have the energy to cry, but I cried anyway. Silent tears came down my face as I looked forward to seeing my baby soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I was wheeled back up to the third floor, transferred into my bed and Steve walked in holding Juliet.  A flood of emotions came over me!  My baby.  My beautiful baby girl was here and I was looking right at her.  Steve and I were crying at this point, just cherishing this moment and holding and looking at our baby girl.  Juliet was immediately put to my chest for skin-to-skin contact.  She was so tiny and perfect!  My parents came in to visit and take pictures and see how we were all doing and then the very long day or days came to an end as we all settled in to get a few hours of shut-eye.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="display: inline !important; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/TNNbcpNeD3I/AAAAAAAAAJU/u5jGkNwtf6c/s200/100_0438.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535868914625286002" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;As it turned out, deciding to go ahead with the c-section was the best thing we could have done for both Juliet and me.  Steve later told me that the reason I was stuck forever at 7 cm was because Juliet couldn’t descend down.  The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck when she was born.  I was so relieved to hear that we had done the right thing.  I was worried that I hadn’t given natural childbirth enough of a chance, but I was so glad that we had made the right decision for the safety of the baby and me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Having Juliet come into our lives is the single most amazing experience I have ever been through and I am cherishing every single moment that we have with her.  She is the light of our lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/TNNdyA1gM3I/AAAAAAAAAJc/WCmiMiYj6Xo/s200/100_0474.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535871480767722354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-2183974133522868589?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/2183974133522868589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/11/juliets-birth-story.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/2183974133522868589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/2183974133522868589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/11/juliets-birth-story.html' title='Juliet&apos;s Birth Story'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/TNNaQuzG7uI/AAAAAAAAAJM/tKEImMFZ8CY/s72-c/100_0407.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-790914768741926266</id><published>2010-10-13T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T14:28:54.554-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hormones and Frustration.</title><content type='html'>My due date is in about five days.  Tick tock, tick tock.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've noticed that I've become very short-tempered with people (though not outwardly, really) who keep asking if I've had the baby yet, and YES, even in person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yeah, this is just a fake belly I'm wearing to fool you all."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been very emotional these past few days and trying not to stress out, but I'm finding it difficult not to do so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm supposed to be relaxing, or something, because "once the baby comes you won't get any sleep" or some nonsense like that.  Well-meaning advice from strangers, friends and family is only annoying me.  Everyone is watching me like a ticking time-bomb and all I can think about is how I've nothing to do except wait for the baby to come and that's making me even crazier.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It doesn't help that a short time after the baby comes I'm going to have to go back to work...whatever that is supposed to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The thought of going back to my old job is enough to make me blow my brains out.  I was only making $900 a month and it was so unbelievably boring.  I worked there two years.  That is enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I sit here at the house all day waiting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Waiting to go into labor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Waiting for Steve to come home every day from work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Waiting for a beautiful, magical well-paying job to appear before me once the baby comes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Waiting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know that my whole world is going to be turned upside-down in a really wonderful way once my daughter comes; I'm hoping with that comes the clarity and know-how to figure out what my next step in life should be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-790914768741926266?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/790914768741926266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/10/hormones-and-frustration.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/790914768741926266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/790914768741926266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/10/hormones-and-frustration.html' title='Hormones and Frustration.'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-6894627919072648850</id><published>2010-10-06T22:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T22:44:21.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pity Blog.</title><content type='html'>No one reads this blog.&lt;br /&gt;That's okay.&lt;br /&gt;I figured I'd sneak in a blog though before the baby comes, because once the baby comes, I'll sure to be away from the computer for quite some time.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's a current photo of the pregnantness:&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs276.snc4/40140_642126461460_19900169_36059047_3302623_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Note my hand gestures of "Please, dear daughter.  Please come out!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Seriously, she's getting very heavy to carry.  My back is not a happy camper and neither are my hips.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can't wait to meet her, though.  I can only imagine what it's going to be like when we first see each other!  And what will she look like?  When will she come?  Ah, the mystery of life.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, I best be off to bed now.  Gotta be up early in the morning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ciao!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-6894627919072648850?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/6894627919072648850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/10/pity-blog.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/6894627919072648850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/6894627919072648850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/10/pity-blog.html' title='Pity Blog.'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-8982499005802025822</id><published>2010-07-26T23:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T00:03:49.308-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a terrible blogger.</title><content type='html'>Shame on me!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just realized that I haven't written in this thing since March.  Since MARCH, people.  Shame, shame.  The past 6 or 7 months have been terribly all-consuming, you know, because I'm pregnant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Most friends on the Twitter or Facebook are aware of this and have been since about April or so, so that's fun.  However, if you don't know me so well, or you've been hiding under a rock, now you know!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is my first pregnancy.  Today I'm officially 28 weeks along.  We're expecting a girl!  I'm getting very excited about meeting her, which should be happening sometime around mid-October-ish if she decides to come on time.  Only time will tell, of course.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is a recent photo:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs177.snc4/38209_626355356880_19900169_35557713_4333248_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The dog you see to the right is Penny.  We dogsit her from time to time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The mess you see in the background is the current state of our house due to construction being done (which will hopefully be done soon)!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really don't have a whole lot else to say other than "I'm pregnant and it's all-consuming".  Ha.  I spent a lot of time today researching the efficacy of childhood vaccinations, made the mistake of posting about it on Facebook and henceforth opened up a can of worms!  So that's always fun.  Haha!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm unemployed!  That stinks.  But I'm trying to keep faith that something will pop up after I've had enough time with the baby in order for me to go back to work.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That's about it, though.  Next month I turn 25.  Quarter of a century.  How 'bout that.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, it's late.  Hopefully I blog again sooner rather than later!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ciao.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-8982499005802025822?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/8982499005802025822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-am-terrible-blogger.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/8982499005802025822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/8982499005802025822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-am-terrible-blogger.html' title='I am a terrible blogger.'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-5272412687251781668</id><published>2010-03-18T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-18T14:27:02.434-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She &amp; Him: Volume Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://media.npr.org/assets/music/firstlisten/2010/03/she_and_him/sheandhim.jpg?t=1268434980&amp;amp;s=2"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://media.npr.org/assets/music/firstlisten/2010/03/she_and_him/sheandhim.jpg?t=1268434980&amp;amp;s=2" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;She &amp;amp; Him's new album &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Volume Two&lt;/span&gt; is now available for live streaming on &lt;a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124615798"&gt;NPR.org&lt;/a&gt;, a week before the actual release.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No surprises here.  Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward come back for a second round of pop music with that certain throwback to the 1960s.  The music is nothing wildly impressive or mind-blowing, but it certainly is sweet to listen to.  This is the kind of album you want to have playing in the background on a summer day, drinking a cool glass of lemonade.  There is a chorus in the background of a number of the songs, which I quite like.  Overall impression: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;★★★★★★★✩✩✩ 7/10 stars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-5272412687251781668?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/5272412687251781668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/03/she-him-volume-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/5272412687251781668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/5272412687251781668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/03/she-him-volume-two.html' title='She &amp; Him: Volume Two'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-4797045163234746393</id><published>2010-02-02T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T15:16:04.616-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dune'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Why So Angry?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;It's a new month!  Hello, February.  Happy Groundhog Day.  Will we have more Winter or is Spring coming early?  It's hard to tell here in Southern California, where it doesn't really get that cold at all.  I would love to have some more rain, though.  That would be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm here today to talk to you about anger.  No one is perfect, but I am trying my best to live a more zen existence, and to not get angry about things that don't matter.  My failing currently is being furious at idiotic drivers on my daily commute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, here is something I don't understand.  Why would you get angry at someone's personal choices that have nothing to do with you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Case in point:  Ever since November, I have had an intolerance to red meat.  I have eaten meat my whole life, but ever since November, my body wasn't having it anymore.  The smell of it makes me sick.  I can't eat it.  I am also trying to cut out other meat, so as to possibly become vegetarian, but everything in baby steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I happened to mention this on Twitter last night:&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;Well, that's gross. My intolerance for meat (mostly red) has gotten so bad that I smelled my parents cooking it and nearly vomited. YUCK.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then received replies such as "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;beef is fucking delicious, what is wrong with you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly do not understand the opposition some people have for vegetarians.  People get furious about it: "I LOVE MOO COW MEAT SO SHOULD YOU! ARGHHHHHH FEEL MY WRATH! LOVE THE MEAT; EAT IT BITCH!"  Really?  Do you feel that insecure about your reasons for eating meat that you feel the need to lash out at other people who don't eat it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The same can be said for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;any &lt;/span&gt;type of unwarranted anger.  People who get upset about same sex marriage, for example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When people don't understand something, they become enraged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find it to be quite maddening, myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps if these people were to educate themselves, they wouldn't be so angry and quick to judge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On that note, I leave you with a quote from Dune:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;"How often it is that the angry man rages denial of what his inner self is telling him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Spice Must Flow,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v505/dqfriends85/amanda.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="status-body"&gt;&lt;span class="entry-content"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-4797045163234746393?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/4797045163234746393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/02/why-so-angry.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/4797045163234746393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/4797045163234746393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/02/why-so-angry.html' title='Why So Angry?'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-8762191189135717713</id><published>2010-01-21T11:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-21T12:17:22.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Salutations!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;It's been quite some time since I've written. I apologize. Honestly, I was under the impression that no one was really reading this thing, but per a conversation I had last evening with my dear friend &lt;a href="http://twitter.com/JHibs"&gt;Jeremy&lt;/a&gt;, apparently people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt; do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt; read this.  Cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;It's a rather rainy week here in Southern California, and despite idiotic drivers on the road (it's just rain, people), I am thoroughly enjoying this fine, fine precipitation.  My health is being a bit of a pisser right now.  I've been having coccydynia (fancy talk for tailbone pain) for the past 3 weeks, and that pretty much blows ass.  Literally.  But all things considered, I can't complain too much.  I have really great friends, a great boyfriend...the status is quo.  And yes, I know I'm using that phrase incorrectly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still on the lookout for a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;new &lt;/span&gt;job, so if anyone knows of someone who's looking to hire someone fabulous like me with super sweet organizational skills, a love for music and theater, and a great sense of humor, let me know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, how is this first month of 2010 treating everyone else out there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A well thought-out post of substance coming your way soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Longing For A Donut Cushion,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v505/dqfriends85/amanda.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-8762191189135717713?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/8762191189135717713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/01/salutations.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/8762191189135717713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/8762191189135717713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2010/01/salutations.html' title='Salutations!'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-3257157184173607029</id><published>2009-11-25T16:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-25T16:47:50.264-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pop culture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='internet'/><title type='text'>Pop Culture and the Wonder of the Internet.</title><content type='html'>The older I get, the more I fear that I am going to become disengaged in popular culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, recently, my 15 year old neighbor across the street had to explain to me what "jerkin'" was.  Apparently, it's some sort of a dance "craze"...The fact that I am using quotation marks around those words automatically implies I had no idea what the hell it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, YouTube, for educating me.  However, I still fail to see how this is a dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/M1SlGk1-B5I&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/M1SlGk1-B5I&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another term people keep throwing around is the word "hipster".  I finally had to look it up on Wikipedia, and this pretty much sums it up:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hipsters are the friends who sneer when you cop to liking Coldplay. They're the people who wear t-shirts silk-screened with quotes from movies you've never heard of and the only ones in America who still think Pabst Blue Ribbon is a good beer. They sport cowboy hats and berets and think Kanye West stole their sunglasses. Everything about them is exactingly constructed to give off the vibe that they just don't care."&lt;br /&gt;— Time, July 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get it, Time magazine!  So what you're saying is a hipster is someone who is a snobby asshole??  I get it, I get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did anyone else have that reaction from reading that quote?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I honestly don't know what the hell we did before the internet.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did everyone stay in touch with what was going on; what was popular?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I think of it, I was never really one to follow the trends too much (uh oh, does that make me a hipster?).  I was the girl in 6th grade who got made fun of wearing capri pants, only for them to become popular a few years later.  Wait, does that make me a trendsetter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point I'm trying to make is we don't really need to worry about what's hot and what's not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you really want to know, you can just Google that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v505/dqfriends85/amanda.gif"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-3257157184173607029?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/3257157184173607029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/pop-culture-and-wonder-of-internet.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/3257157184173607029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/3257157184173607029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/pop-culture-and-wonder-of-internet.html' title='Pop Culture and the Wonder of the Internet.'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-3511376147390732384</id><published>2009-11-20T23:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-20T23:53:00.771-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Hate Twilight.</title><content type='html'>Dear readers,&lt;br /&gt;There are many reasons for me to hate Twilight: It is written for someone at a 6th grade reading level. Actually, that's insulting. It's just poorly written, period.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The storyline is not appealing. What is sexy about a 100 year old vampire lusting for a teenage girl? Nothing, that's what. I get it, I get it. The damn series is a giant hit-me-over-the-head metaphor for teen chastity and the Mormon religion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have nothing against the Mormon religion (to each their own), except for one teensy weensy problem: The Mormon Church largely funded Proposition 8, which as we know took away the rights of same sex couples to get married. Which leads to me to my main reason for hating the Twilight series. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Amanda, what does my sexy Edward Cullen have to do with Prop 8? Everything, that's what. Stephanie Meyer is Mormon and has stated that 10% of all her profits go to The Mormon Church. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am not about to make a blanket statement and say that if you like Twilight you hate gay people; that would be idiotic. However, the next time you start furiously masturbating to the thought of sweet Edward's sexy vampire lips upon your neck as you roll around your bed in your New Moon t-shirt, remember that your purchase is going to a writer, who in essence, is not supporting full and equal rights for the LGBT community. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod Touch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-3511376147390732384?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/3511376147390732384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-i-hate-twilight.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/3511376147390732384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/3511376147390732384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/why-i-hate-twilight.html' title='Why I Hate Twilight.'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-9051030756622825568</id><published>2009-11-17T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T14:55:01.695-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dentist'/><title type='text'>Amanda After Dentist</title><content type='html'>Going to the dentist is probably one of my least favorite things to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I probably wouldn't dread it so much if every dentist visit ended up with me tripping balls:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="340" height="275"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/txqiwrbYGrs&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/txqiwrbYGrs&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="340" height="275"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I think it's safe to say that everyone has seen that video.  The damn thing has 34 MILLION views.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I don't like going to the dentist.  But I go.  We go.  Why?  Because we don't want out teeth to fall out of our fucking mouth, and let's be honest right now: Fake teeth are frightening.  Don't tell me they're not.  They are.  Especially if you're not old.  If you're not old and you have false teeth, good LORD, what the hell did you do wrong?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm not saying I'm perfect.  I only recently started flossing with frequency after being absent from dental cleanings for a year and a half.  Excessive bleeding out of your mouth?  Not cute.  So now I'm a flossing fiend.  Our mouths are our communication devices (unless you're deaf, obviously), and it's important to keep those pearly whites as pearly as they can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/SwMnEc_HU4I/AAAAAAAAAGg/vKeNegZ-bes/s1600/buckybeaver.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/SwMnEc_HU4I/AAAAAAAAAGg/vKeNegZ-bes/s400/buckybeaver.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405206935228601218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in the dental chair today thinking how awesome going to the dentist would be if there were televisions in each room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be great.  I could sit there with my mouth agape and bring in a DVD of Friends and sit back and try to relax.  I could probably get in two episodes of Friends too.  And then the dental hygienist wouldn't have to worry about making small talk and expecting me to answer while there are sharp pointy tools in my mouth.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides which, why don't they only ask you yes or no questions?  At best, you can answer "Uh huh" or "Unh unh".  None of these questions like, "So, how are you spending your winter vacation?"  Really??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's all for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be kind to your health and floss!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♫Keep Smiling, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/220/511753474_e75fe04e2c_t.jpg"&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-9051030756622825568?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/9051030756622825568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/amanda-after-dentist.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/9051030756622825568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/9051030756622825568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/amanda-after-dentist.html' title='Amanda After Dentist'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/SwMnEc_HU4I/AAAAAAAAAGg/vKeNegZ-bes/s72-c/buckybeaver.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-7758890558462163682</id><published>2009-11-10T13:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T15:06:22.293-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='video'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lady gaga'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><title type='text'>Lady Gaga - Bad Romance</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Lady Gaga's newest music video, "Bad Romance" is full of fabulosity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Visually stunning, catchy, eery and beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="464" height="288"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ACm9yECwSso&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x402061&amp;amp;color2=0x9461ca&amp;amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ACm9yECwSso&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x402061&amp;amp;color2=0x9461ca&amp;amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="464" height="288"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J'adore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-7758890558462163682?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/7758890558462163682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/lady-gaga-bad-romance.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/7758890558462163682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/7758890558462163682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/lady-gaga-bad-romance.html' title='Lady Gaga - Bad Romance'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-1379233793696090922</id><published>2009-11-09T15:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T15:52:05.073-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Glutton for Punishment.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Okay.  Who here remembers the episode of Rugrats where Angelica eats too many cookies and swears them off?  And yet, of course, at the end of the episode we see her back at it again eating those damn cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you need a refresher, here is a clip of the episode, courtesy of YouTube:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9nAvG0EQOJM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9nAvG0EQOJM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x234900&amp;amp;color2=0x4e9e00" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it we do things knowing full well we are going to regret it later?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took this opportunity today to go out to lunch at the local Hawaiian BBQ place.  I ordered their so-called "mini meal"--it is not mini at all; I call shenanigans--and a few bites into it immediately regretted eating it.  Mind you, this is not my first time venturing into the land of Chicken Katsu.  I remember eating it the last time, and thinking, "Jesus, Amanda.  Don't eat &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;shit again."  But did I?  OF COURSE.  Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think if we had any common sense, we would learn from our mistakes.  Why do we think there is going to be a different outcome the next time around?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are the thoughts one thinks as my stomach rumbles digesting the cruel, cruel macaroni salad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Should Have Had Subway,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v505/dqfriends85/amanda.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-1379233793696090922?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/1379233793696090922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/glutton-for-punishment.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/1379233793696090922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/1379233793696090922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/glutton-for-punishment.html' title='Glutton for Punishment.'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-5393938858682833679</id><published>2009-11-04T14:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-04T15:00:48.768-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='human rights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='GLBT'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='same-sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='barack obama'/><title type='text'>President Obama &amp; GLBT Rights.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Well, folks.  It's been a year since we officially elected Barack Obama to be our president of the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal preference would have been Ron Paul (even though he ran under the Republican ticket, FAIL), but because we are cursed with a two-party system, Obama was the obvious choice betwixt the two for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why I just said "betwixt."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, I'm sure many people are wondering exactly what he's done in the time he's been in office, and I'm sure many people are frustrated.  I do realize the amount of pressure he must be under; the fervor around Obama winning put him in an unfair messiah-like status.  That's impossible for anyone to live up to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My own personal frustration with him comes at a time when yet another state (Maine) has revoked the rights of same-sex couples to get married.  The harsh sting of what happened in California last year is still painful.  Maybe it's because I'm &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not &lt;/span&gt;an idiot, but why is this even an issue at all?  Who turns all of this into such a hullabaloo?  Why, for the love of all that is good and right in the world, can we not just make an overhaul of the system and add it as an amendment to the constitution that NO rights should be denied to any couple wishing to get married??  How hard is that, really?  Obama, when you spoke of the GLBT community, you said you were on our side!  HELP US, PLEASE! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a bisexual woman, should I happen to fall in love with a woman, I should be able to marry her if I so choose.  And so should the rest of my GLBT friends.  It honestly boggles my mind every day when I think of all the people who want to take deny the rights of other people.  How is who anyone gets married to ANY of ANYONE ELSE'S BUSINESS?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry for ranting here, but this is something I feel incredibly passionate about and simply cannot understand the side of the opposition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A year ago when California overturned the rights of same-sex couples to get married, I was outraged and stated that I would not be getting married until &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;everyone &lt;/span&gt;was allowed to get married.  I still feel that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have to keep fighting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Solidarity,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v505/dqfriends85/amanda.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-5393938858682833679?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/5393938858682833679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/president-obama-glbt-rights.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/5393938858682833679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/5393938858682833679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/president-obama-glbt-rights.html' title='President Obama &amp; GLBT Rights.'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-3881825210465385524</id><published>2009-11-03T18:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T19:17:52.435-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rush hour'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rebecca vigil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='road rage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='air conditioning'/><title type='text'>Here In My Car</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"&gt;Speaking as someone who does a lot of commuting--my boyfriend lives about 40 miles away--it is fair for me to say that I spend a lot of time in my car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;Driving is a pain in the ass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;If Southern California could have a public transportation system that actually WORKS, I would use it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;West L.A. is the worse.  I don't know how more people AREN'T murdered on a daily business with the bullshit that people put up with on the streets and the freeways.  Rush hour traffic in West L.A. I can only see in murder-vision.  It takes you goddamn 30 minutes to go 5 miles.  Ridiculous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;The only way I ever maintain a level of sanity driving amongst the &lt;a href="http://translate.google.com/translate_t#en|it|savages"&gt;selvaggi&lt;/a&gt; is with music.  If it weren't for my music, I think I would seriously mow everyone down with my car, GTA style.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;--&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;Air conditioning in a car drives me nuts.  Here's why:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;The recycled air car smell is lame.  I'm breathing my own damn CO2 over and over and it's just nasty.  Unless, of course, you're my friend &lt;a href="http://www.rebeccavigil.com/"&gt;Rebecca&lt;/a&gt;, who LOVES the smell of my air conditioner in my car.  She claims it smells like the water in The Pirates of the Caribbean ride.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;Fresh air is never fresh.  If I roll down my window, I am undoubtedly behind someone's smelly tail pipe letting go exhaust that must come out of Satan's ass.  Go get a damn smog check, you asshat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;I guess what I'm trying to say is I wouldn't mind driving so much if I was the only person on the road and I was surrounded by lots and lots of trees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;Yeah.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v505/dqfriends85/amanda.gif" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-3881825210465385524?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/3881825210465385524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/here-in-my-car.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/3881825210465385524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/3881825210465385524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/here-in-my-car.html' title='Here In My Car'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6806390302768496977.post-6542271526855696910</id><published>2009-11-03T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T15:40:39.535-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Beginnings</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Well, it's a new blog. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;My previous recording of my life's journey since 2003 was captured over at &lt;a href="http://dqfriends.livejournal.com"&gt;http://dqfriends.livejournal.com&lt;/a&gt;, but it's time to move on and here I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;The name of this blog is entitled "The Sevold Sanctuary" because that is the sign we had in front of our house, engraved in wood.  That, and I couldn't come up with anything else that was clever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is my hope that these posts will not be boring, but who knows what will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the blogging journey begin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yours truly,&lt;br /&gt;Amanda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6806390302768496977-6542271526855696910?l=sevold.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/feeds/6542271526855696910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/new-beginnings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/6542271526855696910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6806390302768496977/posts/default/6542271526855696910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sevold.blogspot.com/2009/11/new-beginnings.html' title='New Beginnings'/><author><name>Amanda S.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06221974201762238390</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_54zEJ-FgYaQ/S6KX8PZ6ByI/AAAAAAAAAIE/4NXQV1xyF2k/s1600-R/26181_600392042570_19900169_34661940_8187528_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
