<?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-3418810521317921254</id><updated>2012-02-16T08:59:34.633-08:00</updated><category term='Heather&apos;s Post'/><title type='text'>You Don't Know... You Weren't There!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>76</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-3009461787120575684</id><published>2009-10-16T15:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T16:03:56.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Few Tips...</title><content type='html'>After a somewhat ruff week with patients I decided to give my blog readers some &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;do's&lt;/span&gt; and don't about getting on the good side of your dental office's scheduling coordinator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  When leaving a message don't talk for ten minutes about why you need to cancel the appointment and what day and time would work for you to reschedule.  Just say this is so and so and I have an appointment on this day and time that I need to reschedule.  When I call you back you can discuss the details with me.  Also, don't speed through your phone number, I don't want to have to listen to your ten minute long message four times just to get all the digits in your phone number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  When I ask you if there is a day or time that works best for you don't in turn ask me what do you have available then when I offer you the next available say, "oh, I can't do that day."  That's why I asked you what day &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; work for you to start with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  When I call you two days before your appointment because I did research and learned that your insurance had changed with out even talking to you and you say that you will bring in the information at your appointment, don't get mad when I tell you we don't accept that insurance.  That's why I went out of my way to call you way in advance.  It's your fault you didn't tell me then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  When you are asking me questions about your insurance, since that's my job to understand your insurance, don't tell me I'm wrong.  I just got off the phone with your insurance company and that is what they told me.  I'm sorry that you don't understand your insurance plan or don't like it but don't get mad at me for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Remember that I am not your &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;BFF&lt;/span&gt;.  I don't need to know every detail of your life.  When you need to cancel an appointment last minute because you are sick just tell me so.  I don't need to hear how you have spent the entire night on the toilet with explosive &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;diarrhea&lt;/span&gt;, or you have the worst period of your life and can't get out of bed.  I also don't need to hear about how you finally broke down and gave your husband that &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;BJ&lt;/span&gt; he's been asking for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  NEVER EVER EVER reach over and take a pen or pencil out of my pencil &lt;a href="http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/04/pet-peeve-of-day.html"&gt;cup,&lt;/a&gt; or step behind the front counter.  This is my personal space and please do not invade it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  When I am trying to schedule you an appointment or go over insurance information with you and the Dr. or office manager walks by don't &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;interrupt&lt;/span&gt; me to just chat with them about your life.  I am a busy women and there are two people standing behind you that need help.  I can't just sit there and listen to you two talk about your trip to Maui nor do I want to.  I will move on and help someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Last of all remember that I am the gate keeper.  I am the one you have to get through to get the appointment time you want or in last minute.  If you are nice to me I will remember that when you call in pain or your insurance is ending and you need in right away.  I will also remember that you were a total brat and make you wait two weeks to get in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-3009461787120575684?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/3009461787120575684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=3009461787120575684' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3009461787120575684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3009461787120575684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/10/few-tips.html' title='A Few Tips...'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-259772158201060053</id><published>2009-10-09T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T12:58:17.571-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Beautiful Freeway</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Ss-VyZh98XI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/1dcCTqyJFZk/s1600-h/freeway.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 168px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 168px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390691972065128818" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Ss-VyZh98XI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/1dcCTqyJFZk/s320/freeway.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For the past few months they have been repaving the span of I5 from Lynnwood to Everett. I've been very impatient during this process cussing and yelling every time I stopped on the freeway when the made everyone merge into one lane or my car lurched on and off the bumpy cut up road.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last Friday I was driving home around midnight and I was struck by the beauty of the new freeway. The road was dark black and all the new lane markings bright white. The turtles were lit up from my headlights and shined bright. I almost felt like I was driving on a plane's runway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I would just like to apologize to all the construction workers that I have cursed at the last few months. Thank you for making my drive home a little more pleasant with the quiet and pretty road. Now if the construction workers on Broadway could just hurry up and finish already, I'll be a really happy girl.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-259772158201060053?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/259772158201060053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=259772158201060053' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/259772158201060053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/259772158201060053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/10/oh-beautiful-freeway.html' title='Oh Beautiful Freeway'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Ss-VyZh98XI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/1dcCTqyJFZk/s72-c/freeway.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-161289933517161228</id><published>2009-09-15T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T17:12:04.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jury Duty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sq_dWkyxA7I/AAAAAAAAAJw/8kSJGENjABA/s1600-h/jury.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381763459634496434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 121px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sq_dWkyxA7I/AAAAAAAAAJw/8kSJGENjABA/s320/jury.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I got my first ever jury duty summons yesterday. I'm kind of sad to have to try to get out of it. My employer would be lost with out me for a week (his words not mine) and I can't afford to only get paid $10 a day for a week. It's too bad they didn't request me for the week my office is closed anyways. I think it would be interesting to serve on a jury. I also truly believe that being able to have a trial by jury is one of the most important rights this country offers and if everyone always found ways out of it then we wouldn't have that right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-161289933517161228?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/161289933517161228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=161289933517161228' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/161289933517161228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/161289933517161228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/09/jury-duty.html' title='Jury Duty'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sq_dWkyxA7I/AAAAAAAAAJw/8kSJGENjABA/s72-c/jury.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-7286668206921713816</id><published>2009-09-10T11:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T11:52:38.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny Stuff</title><content type='html'>Me: We could see you Tuesday, the 24th at 11:30&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patient: Tuesday, the 24th.  What day is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Tuesday, the 24th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patient: yes, but what day is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  The day of the week is Tuesday.  The date is the 24th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patient:  oh, so it's a Tuesday?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:  Yes, Tuesday the 24th is a Tuesday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-7286668206921713816?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/7286668206921713816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=7286668206921713816' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7286668206921713816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7286668206921713816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/09/funny-stuff.html' title='Funny Stuff'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4904788125949639642</id><published>2009-09-05T15:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T15:29:04.711-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm So Over This Buying A House Thing</title><content type='html'>So we found out Thursday night that the house was appraised at about $15,000 less than we offered on it which means we can't get approved for a loan for the full amount.  Now we have to go back and renegotiate the price with the builder and there is a chance the whole thing could fall through.  So lame!  Supposedly we should know more about what's going on by Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house is supposed to be done in a few weeks but given all the hullabaloo it looks like we won't be closing until well into October now (if the whole thing doesn't fall through that is).  Oh the drama of it all.  I'm so over it and can't wait to not be in limbo anymore whatever the outcome may be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4904788125949639642?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4904788125949639642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4904788125949639642' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4904788125949639642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4904788125949639642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-so-over-this-buying-house-thing.html' title='I&apos;m So Over This Buying A House Thing'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-3095902781196080805</id><published>2009-08-17T14:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T14:04:37.308-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eat, Pray, Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SonFx3Z4NkI/AAAAAAAAAJg/LnLEhYq5sno/s1600-h/eat,pray,love.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371041491092780610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 84px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 127px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SonFx3Z4NkI/AAAAAAAAAJg/LnLEhYq5sno/s320/eat,pray,love.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I just read in People magazine that they are filming Eat, Pray, Love. I'm not really sure how I feel about this. Especially with Julia Roberts as the main character. This book is in my top five favorites and I don't really think Julia Roberts is right for this role. I also think that there is no way the movie could touch me as much as the book did. I know I'll probably end up seeing so I hope it doesn't ruin the book for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-3095902781196080805?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/3095902781196080805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=3095902781196080805' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3095902781196080805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3095902781196080805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/08/eat-pray-love.html' title='Eat, Pray, Love'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SonFx3Z4NkI/AAAAAAAAAJg/LnLEhYq5sno/s72-c/eat,pray,love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-6165609733675749498</id><published>2009-08-15T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T21:40:14.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>House Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNVDzqbZI/AAAAAAAAAJY/cOTUdD1HZ2o/s1600-h/046.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370416473601371538" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNVDzqbZI/AAAAAAAAAJY/cOTUdD1HZ2o/s320/046.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNTzuYYKI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/t9xRm4INA2c/s1600-h/047.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370416452104380578" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNTzuYYKI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/t9xRm4INA2c/s320/047.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNS-gEJOI/AAAAAAAAAJI/pfiXKiE2x8I/s1600-h/Home+Visit+%233.1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370416437817255138" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNS-gEJOI/AAAAAAAAAJI/pfiXKiE2x8I/s320/Home+Visit+%233.1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNRgYAm-I/AAAAAAAAAJA/ezJgdW52TY4/s1600-h/Home+Visit+%232.10.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370416412550536162" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNRgYAm-I/AAAAAAAAAJA/ezJgdW52TY4/s320/Home+Visit+%232.10.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven't posted any pictures of the house lately so here are a few. Right now they think we should close by September 30&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;.  These pictures are pretty old.  The outside has siding on it now and all the "stuff" is in the walls.  They start sheet rocking on Tuesday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-6165609733675749498?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/6165609733675749498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=6165609733675749498' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6165609733675749498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6165609733675749498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/08/house-pictures.html' title='House Pictures'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeNVDzqbZI/AAAAAAAAAJY/cOTUdD1HZ2o/s72-c/046.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-309454125843040990</id><published>2009-08-15T21:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T21:32:46.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>White Sox Game</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Russ' birthday was on Wednesday so we went to the Mariner's game because they were playing the White &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sox&lt;/span&gt; which is his team. He got us amazing seats first row in left field just passed third base. We got there early to watch batting practice and I managed to get an Alex Rios (who just got traded to the White &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sox&lt;/span&gt;) to sign a baseball for me. The game ended up going into 14 innings because of a tied score of zero and the White &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Sox&lt;/span&gt; ended up losing but it was still fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370414283822523778" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeLVmPs5YI/AAAAAAAAAIo/awP7PY2SDYM/s320/054.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370414308926452194" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeLXDw8ceI/AAAAAAAAAIw/yaOYtPPQIuQ/s320/052.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370414321166177138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeLXxXH03I/AAAAAAAAAI4/5WEp6tVmDJQ/s320/062.JPG" /&gt;Russ took the picture just as I walked away.  You can see my hair on the very far left side of the picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-309454125843040990?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/309454125843040990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=309454125843040990' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/309454125843040990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/309454125843040990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/08/white-sox-game.html' title='White Sox Game'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SoeLVmPs5YI/AAAAAAAAAIo/awP7PY2SDYM/s72-c/054.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4772209055955406532</id><published>2009-08-12T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T10:04:37.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Should The Past Be The Past?</title><content type='html'>Lately I've been craving a connection to my past.  A time before being the rape victim, before losing all my friends at the start of high school, before my parent's divorce, a time when I had faith to fall back on.  Maybe it's just a simpler time that I crave.  I don't know if it's healthy or not to be chasing a memory of my childhood but I am jumping in head first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt; and contacted a few people that stood out in my mind from that time.  I want to talk to them and maybe reconnect on the times that we were close.  Heather my best friend from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;elementary&lt;/span&gt; school contacted me back and we are making arrangements to meet up.  I couldn't be more excited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4772209055955406532?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4772209055955406532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4772209055955406532' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4772209055955406532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4772209055955406532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/08/should-past-be-past.html' title='Should The Past Be The Past?'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-7301770376085110866</id><published>2009-08-05T15:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T15:24:29.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bunco Night</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SnoFrCADWeI/AAAAAAAAAIg/ZKtpoC08gXI/s1600-h/bunco-759720.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366608142794971618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 129px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SnoFrCADWeI/AAAAAAAAAIg/ZKtpoC08gXI/s200/bunco-759720.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tonight is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bunco&lt;/span&gt; night and I am so excited.  I don't know what I ever did before I had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bunco&lt;/span&gt; night.  I love this group of women and look forward to going every month.  If you don't have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Bunco&lt;/span&gt; group you should find one.  It's that fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-7301770376085110866?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/7301770376085110866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=7301770376085110866' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7301770376085110866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7301770376085110866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/08/bunco-night.html' title='Bunco Night'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SnoFrCADWeI/AAAAAAAAAIg/ZKtpoC08gXI/s72-c/bunco-759720.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-249528068367790132</id><published>2009-08-05T11:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T11:45:17.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Bored</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SnnTNitbpCI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6wehsRDhNvA/s1600-h/Bored-Baby-1284.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366552660597777442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SnnTNitbpCI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6wehsRDhNvA/s200/Bored-Baby-1284.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am sitting at work with absolutely nothing to do. That is all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-249528068367790132?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/249528068367790132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=249528068367790132' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/249528068367790132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/249528068367790132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/08/im-bored.html' title='I&apos;m Bored'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SnnTNitbpCI/AAAAAAAAAIY/6wehsRDhNvA/s72-c/Bored-Baby-1284.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5957348082057535951</id><published>2009-08-03T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T12:17:21.687-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Old Couple At Subway</title><content type='html'>Russ and I went to Subway for lunch yesterday.  An older couple walked in just in front of us.  I thought they were so cute but not in the normal old couple walking down the street holding hands kind of way.  They were just normal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady found a seat while the man went up to order.  He got a foot long sandwich for them to share but instead of having them cut it in half he had them cut it so one side was a little bigger than the other.  Russ commented to me that is how we would be because I usually can't eat a full six inch sandwich. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we go out to eat Russ always sits on the same side of the table as me.  When we were first dating I thought it was really weird but now its weird if he doesn't.  I noticed that this old couple did the same thing only they were on the opposite side as us so we were facing them.  While we were eating we couldn't stop watching them and commenting about them.  Again, they weren't being all lovey dovey and they weren't bickering, they were just being normal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tables were turned when Russ wanted to eat one of my cookies.  I made him take part of two different ones so I could have the really chocolaty parts.  Russ looked over at the couple and they were talking about us!  I wish I knew what they were saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something that to most people would seem so insignificant but to me it was just a really nice moment.  Sometimes I wonder about me and Russ.  We aren't as passionate as most couples.  There is not a lot of bickering or fighting between us which usually signifies passion.  We also aren't the lovey dovey touching each other all the time type.  We just are us and apparently that was enough for this couple to last a long time and that gives me hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5957348082057535951?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5957348082057535951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5957348082057535951' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5957348082057535951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5957348082057535951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/08/old-couple-at-subway.html' title='The Old Couple At Subway'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-846652455320369221</id><published>2009-07-27T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T08:47:05.599-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love My Husband</title><content type='html'>I keep an ongoing list on my phone's notebook app off all the books I want to read. Whenever somebody mentions a good book or I read about one in a magazine or whatever I add it to the list so the next time I go to the bookstore I can remember what it was I wanted to read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a month ago Russ found the list and emailed it to himself without my knowing. One day he just showed up with one of the books on the list. I was so excited not only because he did a wonderful thing for me but because I can't make a decision to save my life and the deciding of what book to read next was already done for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book was "I Was Told &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;There'd&lt;/span&gt; Be Cake" which is a collection of essays. There wasn't the pull of the story to keep me reading nonstop and I just finished it Friday night. Saturday rolls around and Russ gives me another book! I really wasn't expecting it at all. I guess he bought them at the same time and was waiting for me to finish the first one before giving me the second. This one is "The Time Traveler's Wife" and I am in love with it already only 150 pages in. Thank you Aimee for the suggestion it truly is a wonderful story and I can't wait to see how it ends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-846652455320369221?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/846652455320369221/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=846652455320369221' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/846652455320369221'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/846652455320369221'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-love-my-husband.html' title='I Love My Husband'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-6785037048064619588</id><published>2009-07-25T19:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T19:29:23.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Rain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Smu-SLEJsaI/AAAAAAAAAII/DLq9qhVYKoM/s1600-h/summer+rain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 138px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362589000731832738" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Smu-SLEJsaI/AAAAAAAAAII/DLq9qhVYKoM/s200/summer+rain.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Is there anything better than summer rain?  I think it may be my favorite thing in the whole world.  I was just sitting on the couch watching TV with the windows and doors open because it was so hot outside.  Out of nowhere I noticed that familiar rain smell.  I looked outside and the sky was dark but no rain.  About half an hour later I started to hear the rain coming down and it made me smile.  Something so simple and yet it makes me so happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-6785037048064619588?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/6785037048064619588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=6785037048064619588' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6785037048064619588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6785037048064619588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/07/summer-rain.html' title='Summer Rain'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Smu-SLEJsaI/AAAAAAAAAII/DLq9qhVYKoM/s72-c/summer+rain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4420185152798120070</id><published>2009-07-14T14:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T14:43:01.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taco Bell</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slz6DEAPtII/AAAAAAAAAH4/laauU0FzYB8/s1600-h/taco+bell.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358432587185370242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 139px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 126px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slz6DEAPtII/AAAAAAAAAH4/laauU0FzYB8/s200/taco+bell.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I decided to go to Taco Bell for lunch today.  When I got up to the window the lady went to ask if I wanted any hot sauce then cut herself off and said "mild, right."  I don't know if she remembered me, my car, my usual order of two bean burritos no onions, or she was psychic  but she definitely knew what kind of sauce I like.  Maybe this means I go there way too much and need to cut back on my once a week (sometimes twice) visits...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4420185152798120070?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4420185152798120070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4420185152798120070' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4420185152798120070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4420185152798120070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/07/taco-bell.html' title='Taco Bell'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slz6DEAPtII/AAAAAAAAAH4/laauU0FzYB8/s72-c/taco+bell.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-9043728300103258158</id><published>2009-07-13T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T20:32:08.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Social Anxiety</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slv3Uz4q_yI/AAAAAAAAAHw/Gret0omKbb8/s1600-h/anxiety.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 155px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358148118584688418" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slv3Uz4q_yI/AAAAAAAAAHw/Gret0omKbb8/s200/anxiety.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometime around sophmore year of high school I started to develop severe social anxiety.  As I get older my anxiety gets worse and worse.  When I am in a large group of people I tend to just find a spot out of the way of everyone and not say a word.  I'm sure most people interpret my behavior to be anti-social or bitchy but really I'm just trying to breathe and not cry.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For Fourth of July Russ' co-worker invited us over to his house for a barbeque.  In the weeks leading up the event I kept telling myself that we wouldn't end up going so I had nothing to worry about.  The morning of we were running errands and I told myself that we wouldn't have time to make it over to his house.  We stopped by the house on the way down there because Russ forgot something.  I ran downstairs to my bathroom and burst into tears.  All I could think about was that I didn't know a single person there and Russ would be socializing with everyone and leave all alone.  I heard Russ coming down the stairs so I threw on my sunglasses and tried to act normal.  Unfortunately, when we were talking I couldn't stop sniffling and he figured me out.  He told me not to go but I knew that I have to work to overcome this crazy fear of mine so off we went.  Pretty much the whole time I sat in the same seat and only spoke when spoken too.  I'm sure everyone probably thought I was weird or bratty but I did it.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I even was able to go to a party at Russ' friend's house Saturday.  I got teary eyed a few times but never actually cried.  Major improvement!  Again, I wasn't the most social person in the room but I managed to get through it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-9043728300103258158?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/9043728300103258158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=9043728300103258158' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/9043728300103258158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/9043728300103258158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/07/social-anxiety.html' title='Social Anxiety'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slv3Uz4q_yI/AAAAAAAAAHw/Gret0omKbb8/s72-c/anxiety.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-8358078949891447632</id><published>2009-07-13T19:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T20:32:45.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The House</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SlvzU7KL9KI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/TCwAjIxtmdk/s1600-h/Home+vist+%231.1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358143722490688674" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SlvzU7KL9KI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/TCwAjIxtmdk/s320/Home+vist+%231.1.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We got a call last week that wood was going to be delivered on Thursday to start building the house. I convinced Russ Thursday night to go up and see how much they had gotten done. They actually did a lot and had the entire floor framed. Everyone kept asking me if I was excited that we had bought a house and I had to admit that I really wasn't. None of it was &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;real&lt;/span&gt; yet. Now that they have started I can't wait for it to be done. I think about it night and day. I think I've looked at the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;floor plan&lt;/span&gt; on Regent Homes website a &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;bajillion&lt;/span&gt; times to remind myself what it will look like. Russ got an email today to set up an appointment to go over colors and whatnot. I think once we do that it will become really real. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt; for new houses!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358146388939124418" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slv1wIdCLsI/AAAAAAAAAHg/ND48vjGBAwc/s320/Home+Visit+%231.3.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358146398881131106" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slv1wtfZKmI/AAAAAAAAAHo/66wmEyzn53Q/s320/Home+Vist+%231.4.JPG" /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358146381531011650" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Slv1vs2zWkI/AAAAAAAAAHY/ukVVbUYNcWM/s320/Home+Vist+%231.2.JPG" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-8358078949891447632?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/8358078949891447632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=8358078949891447632' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8358078949891447632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8358078949891447632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/07/house.html' title='The House'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SlvzU7KL9KI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/TCwAjIxtmdk/s72-c/Home+vist+%231.1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5859002655762927034</id><published>2009-06-04T19:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T19:11:11.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Russ Is A Genius</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sih81iX7XOI/AAAAAAAAAHI/OpUHZsScMeE/s1600-h/blizzard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343658217077169378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sih81iX7XOI/AAAAAAAAAHI/OpUHZsScMeE/s320/blizzard.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yup, that's my  delicious blizzard treat sitting on the table.  I decided to go to dinner at Dairy Queen tonight because it was so hot inside our house.  Russ got a chicken basket and I got a blizzard (don't judge, you know you wish you could have ice cream for dinner).  After sitting down and eating for a few minutes I noticed that on Russ' drink cup it said that blizzards are so thick that they defy gravity.  That some employees will even serve them upside down sometimes.  So I asked Russ if he ever did that when he worked there.  He said no that it took too much time to do that.  I said "oh yeah so much time to do this" and tipped my cup sideways and explained that the ice cream was too melted by now to hold it completely upside down.  He took the cup from me and tipped it upside down and said "no, see" and just as he was about to tip it back up, splat.  I started laughing uncontrollably.  I made like Chandler and Rachel on the episode of Friends where they eat the cheesecake that fell on the floor and ate the rest of my blizzard straight from the table.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5859002655762927034?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5859002655762927034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5859002655762927034' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5859002655762927034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5859002655762927034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/06/russ-is-genius.html' title='Russ Is A Genius'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sih81iX7XOI/AAAAAAAAAHI/OpUHZsScMeE/s72-c/blizzard.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4106269832475865279</id><published>2009-06-03T12:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T21:09:03.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm A Homeowner...Kind Of</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SibL5i53D5I/AAAAAAAAAHA/0HK5-urGxlY/s1600-h/house.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343182197404143506" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SibL5i53D5I/AAAAAAAAAHA/0HK5-urGxlY/s200/house.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We started looking into buying a house back in February.  The first house we looked at was in Lake Stevens.  It was a beautiful townhouse that was a short sale.  We offered a little more than they were asking but the sellers real estate agent showed them our offer second even though ours was first.  They ended up going with the other offer and since we were "second" we didn't even have a chance to counter or anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several houses later we looked at house on Lake Stevens that was newly built.  I loved it but Russ had some reservations.  There was no yard instead you had about ten feet between the back of the house and the house behind you.  We countered back and forth a few times with the builder and when we finally came to an agreement it turned out that it was kind of like a short sale where it needed bank approval.  They assured us that it would only take three days.  Two weeks later we decided to start looking again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We headed up to Marysville and looked at several more houses.  We found one that hasn't been built yet but were able to go through the model home that is the exact same floor plan.  I fell in love.  The kitchen was amazing.  The master bedroom had french doors that open into a huge room.  The master bath had a soaking tub with separate shower!  My entire life I've dreamed of having a tub like that.  There wasn't a single detail about the house that I didn't like.  The only downfall I could see was that it's twenty minutes north of where I am now in Everett.  Russ' only concern was that there wasn't a yard.  We decided that those reasons weren't enough to not get the house.  So we made our third offer and countered back and forth a few times and now it is ours...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...kind of.  The house still has to be built and we don't actually close until it's done so that means it will "officially" be ours around the beginning of October.  Sorry to keep everyone in the dark about this but I didn't want to really discuss it until it was official.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4106269832475865279?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4106269832475865279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4106269832475865279' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4106269832475865279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4106269832475865279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/06/im-homeownerkind-of.html' title='I&apos;m A Homeowner...Kind Of'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SibL5i53D5I/AAAAAAAAAHA/0HK5-urGxlY/s72-c/house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4078222214280795486</id><published>2009-05-30T22:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T22:55:33.110-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Selfishness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SiIXSdzzbkI/AAAAAAAAAG4/HfOlu6l4qVM/s1600-h/pensive.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 99px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341857714021822018" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SiIXSdzzbkI/AAAAAAAAAG4/HfOlu6l4qVM/s200/pensive.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This last week my doctor was away on vacation so the office was closed. I had a wonderful time of doing nothing. I took this opportunity to treat myself to some "me" time. I slept in every day, worked out on my Wii Fit, watched a lot of HGTV and sat around and did a lot of self reflection. I didn't want to go out and be with people or talk on the phone. I wanted to really be selfish and just think about myself and do what I wanted to do and it was amazing! I was having so much fun with it all when Russ wanted to go to a card show today I told him to go alone and I stayed home and watched movies all day by myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that the weekend is winding down I guess its time to go back to my normal day to day life. I'll have to return to work on Monday and go back to my routine of taking care of patients. I love my job but it can be very tiring being "fake LeAnn" as Russ calls it. When I'm at work (and a lot of times just dealing with people in general) I have to always be "on." Always having a smile on my face and speaking in a calm soothing yet happy voice. Listening to every one's stories like they are the most interesting things I've heard in all my life. Laughing at their stupid jokes and nodding along in sympathy to what ever it is that is going wrong in their lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a peacemaker by nature and so it's in my personality to do whatever it takes to make everyone else happy. Don't get me wrong the same things that I complain about are the things that I also love. I do like to hear about my patient that was an army nurse in World War II. I love to hear about the guy that takes soccer balls down to South America. The kid that just graduated high school and is going to Italy to learn to cook. It's just that it can be tiring always trying to please everyone all the time. So it was a much needed staycation to just be alone and relax and be able to be my true self nonstop for a whole week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4078222214280795486?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4078222214280795486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4078222214280795486' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4078222214280795486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4078222214280795486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/05/selfishness.html' title='Selfishness'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SiIXSdzzbkI/AAAAAAAAAG4/HfOlu6l4qVM/s72-c/pensive.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-2334613464175682971</id><published>2009-05-18T10:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T12:42:35.115-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Books</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/ShGfOwd0sUI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Ie2QO73ndnk/s1600-h/book.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337222109287723330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/ShGfOwd0sUI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Ie2QO73ndnk/s200/book.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mentioned a few posts ago how when I start reading a book I become consumed by it. I have to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;restrict&lt;/span&gt; myself to only one book a month because even after I finish the book I can't stop thinking about the characters and their lives. If I get too many &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;story lines&lt;/span&gt; in my head at once I would never be able to get anything done. I also usually try to start and finish a book in the same day because I especially can't focus at work when all I can think about is how the book is going to end. Unfortunately, I started reading "Firefly Lane" yesterday and because its almost 500 pages only got three quarters of the way through it. I tried to go to bed at eleven last night but couldn't sleep (in case you haven't caught on yet, its because I was thinking about the book). I got out of bed at 12:15 and went up stairs so I could keep reading. Finally at 2:00 in the morning I forced myself to put the book down and try to sleep. Today I am super bratty and have no patience for my patients. I don't know if its the lack of sleep or my feelings from the book carrying over into my normal life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The book starts out with two pages of the current day where the women are no longer friends and then jumps back to the 70's when they met and continues on through the 80's, 90's, and then 2000's. I am almost to the current day and I have a &lt;em&gt;need&lt;/em&gt; to know what happens that sends a thirty year friendship down the drain. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm usually not a fiction reader, I prefer real life stories like memoirs, but for some reason I picked this book up and I'm glad I did. It is set in Seattle which I love because I feel like I'm special because I know all the places that are referenced.  Even though its fiction its very true to life about the relationship between friends. How over time they grow apart and then grow back together again.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-2334613464175682971?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/2334613464175682971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=2334613464175682971' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2334613464175682971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2334613464175682971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/05/books.html' title='Books'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/ShGfOwd0sUI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Ie2QO73ndnk/s72-c/book.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-8928446501624338639</id><published>2009-05-05T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T14:58:13.858-07:00</updated><title type='text'>National Nurse's Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SgC1fGQE0KI/AAAAAAAAAGo/GA3uztJVSDo/s1600-h/nurse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332461504665276578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 161px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SgC1fGQE0KI/AAAAAAAAAGo/GA3uztJVSDo/s200/nurse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tomorrow being National Nurse's Day I would like to give a shout out to my sister Lauren. She is an Army Nurse and I like to think of her as a modern day Florence Nightingale. She is an amazing, compassionate, patient nurse. She served in Iraq and not only took care of wounded soldiers but was constantly coming up with ways to boost &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;everyone's&lt;/span&gt; moral. She is now back in Georgia and teaching her nursing skills to others. She is just as good at teaching as she is at nursing. I love her very much and am so so so proud of her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-8928446501624338639?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/8928446501624338639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=8928446501624338639' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8928446501624338639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8928446501624338639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/05/national-nurses-day.html' title='National Nurse&apos;s Day'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SgC1fGQE0KI/AAAAAAAAAGo/GA3uztJVSDo/s72-c/nurse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-7625561925401671010</id><published>2009-04-30T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T13:03:15.063-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SfpUwvQtj5I/AAAAAAAAAGg/EOac10B5bxM/s1600-h/Lost.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330666305243418514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 164px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SfpUwvQtj5I/AAAAAAAAAGg/EOac10B5bxM/s320/Lost.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.) How can it be that "LOST" is the best show of this generation and not one person I work with and not one patient today watched the episode last night? I came to work today bubbling with a need to discuss all that unfolded and no one to talk to. I tried to satisfy my craving by reading the blogs but its not the same as a face to face discussion where you can feed off the other person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I read a book I become consumed by the book and can't stop reading until I'm done with it. At the times that I can't be reading it (like when working). I think about the characters and wonder what will happen next and what the characters are doing right now. That's how I am with LOST and I can't say that I'm like that with any other show. I know some people have issues with the fantasy aspect of the story line but it doesn't bother me. For some reason in my mind its totally plausible that there would be a crazy weird smoke monster on a crazy weird island. I really believe that it could happen. Same thing with the whole time travel thing. I love that they constantly keep you guessing and reveal just enough to satisfy you but still keep you on your toes. I will truly be sad when it comes to an end next season. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.) I was in the drive through at Taco Bell today and the mini-van in front of me had to open the driver side door to place her order. This was mildly amusing to me. Then when she pulled up to the window, the passenger opened up the left side sliding door and got out to get the food. This was very amusing to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.) I think ring back songs or whatever they are called (when you call someone instead of hearing a ringing noise you hear a song) is the best idea ever. When I call patients I get to know there personality better just by listening to what song they chose.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-7625561925401671010?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/7625561925401671010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=7625561925401671010' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7625561925401671010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7625561925401671010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/04/little-bit-of-this-little-bit-of-that.html' title='A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SfpUwvQtj5I/AAAAAAAAAGg/EOac10B5bxM/s72-c/Lost.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-7408181602500569804</id><published>2009-04-29T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T14:27:28.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Peeve of the Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SfjGIYqMkiI/AAAAAAAAAGY/QMX9rnPuF1k/s1600-h/pen+cup.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330228006353670690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SfjGIYqMkiI/AAAAAAAAAGY/QMX9rnPuF1k/s320/pen+cup.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you are at a doctors office or really just anywhere where there is a counter between you and the person you are doing business with, please, please, please do not ever lean over the counter and take a pen out of their pen holder. This is my personal space and my personal pens. If you need one ask me and I would be happy to offer you one of the office pens. Or better yet how about you use the one sitting right next to you on the counter? I am very picky when it comes to what pens I use and I don't like other people using them. I even hide them from my coworkers. It's kind of like the scene in "Serendipity" where John Cusak's character is at Macy's or something and tries to walk behind the counter. I totally felt for the the store clerk in that scene.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-7408181602500569804?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/7408181602500569804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=7408181602500569804' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7408181602500569804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7408181602500569804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/04/pet-peeve-of-day.html' title='Pet Peeve of the Day'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SfjGIYqMkiI/AAAAAAAAAGY/QMX9rnPuF1k/s72-c/pen+cup.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5497756896526567424</id><published>2009-04-22T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T10:22:21.987-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hallelujah</title><content type='html'>Russ found my diamond!  It was stuck in the couch cushion.  He said he knew it had to be there because I'm always on the couch watching TV (ha*ha*ha, funny guy, huh?).  Now all I have to do is find a jewler to put it back in the ring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5497756896526567424?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5497756896526567424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5497756896526567424' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5497756896526567424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5497756896526567424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/04/hallelujah.html' title='Hallelujah'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4802759353453282685</id><published>2009-04-20T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T14:31:27.630-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Devastating News...</title><content type='html'>I lost a diamond from my wedding ring. I went to the park for lunch and was sitting in my car eating when I noticed it. I have a simple white gold band with diamonds going around in the middle on the top half of the band. It's the last diamond in the row. I don't know when it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;happened&lt;/span&gt; or where the diamond went. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; called Russ and let him know that my ring was broken but he didn't seem too upset about it. He said that we would just take it to a jewelry store and have it fixed. I called my sister Lauren and she said that I should use this as an excuse to get a new ring. Maybe I'm being a little bratty and selfish about the situation but I want my ring. The ring that Russ proposed to me with (because he didn't know there was a difference between an engagement ring and a wedding ring), the ring he put on my finger the day that we were married. The ring that Russ picked out for me all by himself because it's what he thought I would like and he was right. I guess I'll have to come to terms with it and just replace the diamond but a little piece of me will always know that it's an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;impostor&lt;/span&gt;....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4802759353453282685?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4802759353453282685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4802759353453282685' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4802759353453282685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4802759353453282685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/04/devastating-news.html' title='Devastating News...'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-577535839685765495</id><published>2009-04-15T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T11:34:00.062-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That Sucks Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SeYnHAI6KWI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/bZ8BUOwQZeY/s1600-h/titanic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324986610662123874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 180px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 121px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SeYnHAI6KWI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/bZ8BUOwQZeY/s320/titanic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just call me a walking calender of weird holidays. Today is That Sucks Day. On April 15&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; the Titanic Sank, President Lincoln was pronounced dead and of course Taxes are due. A lot of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;suckiness&lt;/span&gt; going on today. I've overheard a few people say today that something sucked and I was quick to let them know that it was because officially today does suck.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-577535839685765495?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/577535839685765495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=577535839685765495' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/577535839685765495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/577535839685765495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/04/that-sucks-day.html' title='That Sucks Day'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SeYnHAI6KWI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/bZ8BUOwQZeY/s72-c/titanic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1630294905616099161</id><published>2009-04-14T14:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T14:25:03.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You Lawyers</title><content type='html'>Today is National Be Nice To Lawyers Day.  In honor of the day I would like to give a shout out to my brother in law Joe who is indeed a lawyer.  There are probably a billion jokes that make fun of lawyers and a lot of people hate the profession but really what would life be like with out them?  Plus, President Obama went to law school and it seems like most people like him....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1630294905616099161?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1630294905616099161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1630294905616099161' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1630294905616099161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1630294905616099161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/04/thank-you-lawyers.html' title='Thank You Lawyers'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-6415400623072977572</id><published>2009-04-06T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-06T16:56:19.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Stalker</title><content type='html'>I've decided that I have a stalker and his name is God.  It seems like ever since I went to visit my sister Lauren about a month ago when she went to the Temple for the first time, there has been at least one sign a week from him.  Mainly in the form of missionaries.  I see them everywhere lately.  Walking down the street by my work as I drive home at night.  Knocking on my friend Heather's door when I'm there visiting.  Even today when I was at the park at lunch time there was a group of them playing volleyball or something.  There's been other things here and there, an article in USA Today, a newsletter from the Everett First Ward Relief Society, so on and so on; but the main focal point has been missionaries.  I told Heavenly Father a while ago that when I was ready I would sit down with the Elders and take the discussions.  I decided that when I was ready they would magically show up at my house.  I guess Heavenly Father is letting me know that it's almost time or something...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-6415400623072977572?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/6415400623072977572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=6415400623072977572' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6415400623072977572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6415400623072977572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-stalker.html' title='My Stalker'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1828879300422931962</id><published>2009-03-25T12:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T12:41:44.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm A Fitness Junkie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/ScqIEmCkWDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/LkT5XhmQ2Pc/s1600-h/wii+fit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317211922576463922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 126px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 82px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/ScqIEmCkWDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/LkT5XhmQ2Pc/s320/wii+fit.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Wii Fit that is.  We were at Target on Saturday and they had one in stock so we snatched it up and I've been addicted every since.  I've spent at least an hour every night playing with it.  I figure it may not be the best work outs for real fitness people (I don't think they have any 13 mile runs, Lauren) but it sure does kick my butt every night.  I have come to realize that my balance issues are not just in my head they are for real and I have the stats now to prove it.  It even asked me if I trip when walking which I always do!  I figure if nothing else being active while playing games is better than sitting on the couch playing games, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1828879300422931962?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1828879300422931962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1828879300422931962' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1828879300422931962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1828879300422931962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-fitness-junkie.html' title='I&apos;m A Fitness Junkie'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/ScqIEmCkWDI/AAAAAAAAAGI/LkT5XhmQ2Pc/s72-c/wii+fit.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-8044356002088749577</id><published>2009-03-15T15:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T15:46:08.912-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cut You So Good, You Gonna Wish I No Cut You So Good</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sb2C9hqQMWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/iVtgVCWN-PA/s1600-h/bad+roach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313547128886276450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 145px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sb2C9hqQMWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/iVtgVCWN-PA/s320/bad+roach.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*I would like to start out by stating that I know the quote is actually "Cut you so bad, you gonna wish I no cut you so bad." However, I started saying it the wrong way so much that by the time I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;learned&lt;/span&gt; I was saying it wrong it was already &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ingrained&lt;/span&gt; in my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I went downstairs to talk to Russ. I saw that sitting on his desk was his pocket knife opened up. I told him should not leave it open because he could accidentally stab himself. He told me that the knife was so dull that it would be impossible for someone to cut him with it. I picked it up and pretended to "cut him so good" with it when he moved his hand and I accidentally stabbed his knuckle. It started bleeding pretty good. He said it wasn't that bad and it would stop in a second and he kept working on his computer but it didn't stop. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Every time&lt;/span&gt; I looked down there was a bigger pool of blood on the back of his hand. Finally he went and washed it off and cleaned it out. I felt so bad! How many wives can say that actually stabbed there &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;husbands&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/3418810521317921254-8044356002088749577?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/8044356002088749577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=8044356002088749577' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8044356002088749577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8044356002088749577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/03/cut-you-so-good-you-gonna-wish-i-no-cut.html' title='Cut You So Good, You Gonna Wish I No Cut You So Good'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/Sb2C9hqQMWI/AAAAAAAAAGA/iVtgVCWN-PA/s72-c/bad+roach.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-3233802370410662372</id><published>2009-02-18T13:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T13:27:03.010-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I've Joined the 21st Century</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SZx7IK9U7vI/AAAAAAAAAF4/RtdgcmYlQQc/s1600-h/iphone_home.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304249841446350578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 194px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SZx7IK9U7vI/AAAAAAAAAF4/RtdgcmYlQQc/s320/iphone_home.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, that's what Heather says anyways.  That's right people, plain and simple LeAnn has got herself an IPhone.  Russ surprised me with it for Valentine's Day.  I had a range of emotions when he handed it to me.  First was "oh my gosh it is so fricken expensive" then when I realized he had signed a contract and there was no returning it I turned to cautious excitement.  I was still a little afraid of my high tech gadget.  The next day I felt like the coolest person in the world but was a little ashamed still about how expensive it was.  Monday I only told one person at work that I had it.  I didn't want people to judge me and say, "she says they don't have money and then went and bought herself an IPhone" (trust me, people at my work would totally judge).  Finally today I am proud of the fact that I have such a super cool toy and am telling the world about it on my blog.  I have to say it really is the coolest thing ever.  I love that like the commercial says there really is an app for everything!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-3233802370410662372?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/3233802370410662372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=3233802370410662372' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3233802370410662372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3233802370410662372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/02/ive-joined-21st-century.html' title='I&apos;ve Joined the 21st Century'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SZx7IK9U7vI/AAAAAAAAAF4/RtdgcmYlQQc/s72-c/iphone_home.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4736386266010266687</id><published>2009-02-10T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T14:52:56.540-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Personality</title><content type='html'>I usually give credit to my dad for my personality traits. He gave me the patience I need to deal with patients yelling at me about their bills. The logical mind to see both sides of the issue and the wisdom to figure out the right thing to do. It wasn't until today however that I realized that my mom gave me one of the most important traits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In most things I'm a slob who wants to do the least amount of work possible to get by. Except at work. At work everything is in order and I expect myself to be perfect. I was informed today that I forgot the lock the front door of the office last night. Vic wasn't that upset, nothing was stolen and we do have a security alarm if somebody had tried to get in. I however, was a wreck. I couldn't believe that I could make such a big mistake. I've been carrying around this guilt all day trying to figure out how I could be so careless and beating myself up. I'm sure most people would look at this and think that its a bad trait to have. Trying to be perfect can only lead to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;disappointment&lt;/span&gt;, right? Wrong!  How can you ever be the best you can possibly be without striving for perfection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to thank my mom for pushing me to be something great from a very young age.  When I was like three or four she started to get me to learn to read because she knew that I could if I tried hard enough.  She set the ground work from an early age that I should aim for perfection.  I know that part of what makes me good at my job (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, except forgetting to lock the door) is that I have a strong work ethic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4736386266010266687?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4736386266010266687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4736386266010266687' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4736386266010266687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4736386266010266687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/02/personality.html' title='Personality'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1129059188955719478</id><published>2009-02-06T11:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T11:12:46.410-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lauren</title><content type='html'>Next month I am going to Georgia to visit my sister Lauren. I am super excited and can't wait, I'm practically counting down the days until I leave. I've always been close to Lauren and I grew up thinking that we would always be close. Emotionally we are still very close but physically we are across the country from each other. I thought that we would live close enough to each other that we would randomly drop by each other's homes. I know we still have time to live near each other, we are still fairly young. Every once in a while though, when she is having a bad day say, I want to be near her and give her a big hug and bring her chocolate covered gummy bears and it breaks my heart a little knowing that I can't do that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1129059188955719478?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1129059188955719478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1129059188955719478' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1129059188955719478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1129059188955719478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/02/lauren.html' title='Lauren'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4906783778728254839</id><published>2009-02-04T15:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T15:17:09.555-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What Woud You Do?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SYohV5Dkv7I/AAAAAAAAAFw/t_68ENKy6Xs/s1600-h/wwyd_talent.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299084571531591602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 177px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SYohV5Dkv7I/AAAAAAAAAFw/t_68ENKy6Xs/s320/wwyd_talent.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This show is on ABC on Tuesday nights.  They have actors in situations that are morally wrong and see how people react.  I tear up almost every time I watch this show.  I love to watch all the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;situations&lt;/span&gt; and think about would I really speak up if I saw someone short changing a blind person?  Would I be one of the ones speaking down to a customer who doesn't speak English well?  I think it's a great show and everyone should watch it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4906783778728254839?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4906783778728254839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4906783778728254839' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4906783778728254839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4906783778728254839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/02/what-woud-you-do.html' title='What Woud You Do?'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SYohV5Dkv7I/AAAAAAAAAFw/t_68ENKy6Xs/s72-c/wwyd_talent.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5720556918914590985</id><published>2009-01-21T12:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T12:09:08.851-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Inauguration + Starbucks = Fun</title><content type='html'>I would just like to say that I loved getting my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Starbucks&lt;/span&gt; cup yesterday.  Not only because Vic bought it for me so it was free but because of the cute sleeve.  I tried to find a picture of it online to post but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;couldn't&lt;/span&gt; find one.  It's got a red and blue stripe (the middle is brown but I think it is supposed to be white).  They all had quotes from different president's inauguration speeches.  Mine was from President Lincoln back in 1865.  It was a little eerie that something from 150 years ago could still be so relevant today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5720556918914590985?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5720556918914590985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5720556918914590985' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5720556918914590985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5720556918914590985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/01/inauguration-starbucks-fun.html' title='Inauguration + Starbucks = Fun'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-6916132092868986355</id><published>2009-01-20T09:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T09:18:18.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Great Husband</title><content type='html'>I am very much not a morning person.  For the most part I get out of bed ten minutes before I'm supposed to leave the house for work.  This does not leave any time for extra activities.  I get up, throw on some clothes, put my hair in a ponytail, brush my teeth, throw on some eyeliner and mascara and run out the door.  The past couple of mornings have been pretty cold and there has been frost on all the cars.  Yesterday Russ called me after he left the house to warn me that it was icy outside.  I ran out of the house five minutes late and he had already scraped my windows for me! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today when I left the bedroom I thought I smelled coffee but Russ &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;doesn't&lt;/span&gt; drink it so I assumed it was just his body spray.  I ran out the door and he had once again scraped my windows for me.  I called him to thank him for doing it today and yesterday (horrible wife that I am I never thanked him yesterday) and he asked if I had gotten my coffee.  He made coffee just for me and I didn't even know.  He left it in the kitchen which I never go into in the mornings cause I don't have time.  My heart melted a little. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is constantly doing little things like that for me and I tend to take them for granted a lot.  It's a little late but I think I'm going to make my New Year's resolution to be to appreciate my husband a little more and to try and do little nice things for him more often.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-6916132092868986355?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/6916132092868986355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=6916132092868986355' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6916132092868986355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6916132092868986355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-great-husband.html' title='My Great Husband'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5349825788073341989</id><published>2009-01-19T16:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T16:36:00.598-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fears</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SXUcOKluG4I/AAAAAAAAAFg/qE1TZpDMR4Q/s1600-h/alien_asgard_stargate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293167966730197890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SXUcOKluG4I/AAAAAAAAAFg/qE1TZpDMR4Q/s320/alien_asgard_stargate.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have three main fears: 1. Spiders 2. Aliens 3. Social Situations. When I was really little (probably somewhere between three and five) I was spending the night at my Aunt Karen's house. I don't remember what the movie was but it was about these little green alien guys. In the movie the alien's were nice but in one scene a lady opens the curtains to look out her bedroom window that was on the second story and an alien is looking back at her hanging in mid air. That did it, from then on I have been terrified of aliens. So why, you might ask, am I watching a show called UFO Hunter's? I couldn't really give you a good answer. Maybe because Russ likes it or maybe because I think it will help me get over my fear. We watched three episodes on Saturday night and I have been scared to be alone in the house ever since. It did not help me get over my fear it only intensified it. Bleh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5349825788073341989?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5349825788073341989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5349825788073341989' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5349825788073341989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5349825788073341989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/01/fears.html' title='Fears'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SXUcOKluG4I/AAAAAAAAAFg/qE1TZpDMR4Q/s72-c/alien_asgard_stargate.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-2036189940049190063</id><published>2009-01-14T22:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T22:32:11.565-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LieAnn</title><content type='html'>In my younger days my family members jokingly referred to me as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;LieAnn&lt;/span&gt;.  If you couldn't figure it out from the nickname I was a lie-aholic.  I would lie about everything and anything for no reason.  I can't tell you why I did it.  I don't know if I was scared of the truth or just thought it was fun but it's a part of my life I look back on and wish I could change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I grew up I realized that it is so silly to lie.  The old adage that it's easier to remember the truth than a web of lies is very true.  Slowly but surely I learned to admit when I made a mistake instead of thowing up  some lie about why I did it or even that I didn't do it at all.  I learned that its ok to not have an answer for something and its better to admit that I don't know than make up something silly and false.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think once you've been through something major (in my case a decade of lying) and you see somebody else going through the same thing you have one of two reactions.  You either sympathize with them.  Hey you've been there before and felt that same weakness.  Or you have no patience for them.  You've been there before and were able to change and become a better person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been dealing with a liar at work over the last few months and I'm at my wits end.  I want to tell this person that they are being silly.  There is no need to lie, it's ok to be wrong or make a mistake or not know an answer.  I go through phases where I just laugh it off but some days I can't help but try to catch her in her web of lies and make her look silly.  Unfortunately, bringing the lying to her attention is not an option for me so I try to lean more towards the laughing it off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-2036189940049190063?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/2036189940049190063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=2036189940049190063' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2036189940049190063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2036189940049190063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2009/01/lieann.html' title='LieAnn'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4548563020650416059</id><published>2008-12-30T15:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T15:53:58.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Luck</title><content type='html'>My office is always closed the week between Christmas and New Years. Dr. and her husband (the office &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;manager&lt;/span&gt;) are in Hawaii on vacation so that left me to take care of things at the office while they are away. I don't mind doing it, I'd probably just be sitting at home watching TV &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;anyways&lt;/span&gt; and it allows me to get some hours in and not have to go with out a paycheck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forget however that my luck sucks and that things never go according to plan no matter how much I plan ahead. I was supposed to come into the office sometime over the weekend to pick up the mail so it wouldn't collect a huge pile by the front door (we have a mail slot). I forgot.  When I got to the office today there was no mail.  I didn't know what could have happened to it so I called Vic in Hawaii and asked him if he put the hold on it starting Christmas instead of starting today like he had planned.  he said no so I went to the post office to investigate.  Turns out that they had on file to start holding the mail today but were holding starting last anyways. Stupid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Paychex&lt;/span&gt; was supposed to call me at 11:30am so I could do payroll. Vic spoke to the guy several times over the last couple weeks to make sure the guy had my cell number so he could call me at home and I wouldn't have to go into the office. 12:00 and still no phone call I call the guy. I get his voice mail and it says he is at lunch from 12:00 till 1:00. I leave a message for him with my cell number and tell him to call me ASAP. 1:45 still no phone call so I call and ask to speak to anybody and the lady said that he was on the other line and would call me soon. 2:30 the guy finally calls and said that he called me at work because he didn't have my cell number. Yeah, whatever, at least I was able to get pay roll in before the end of the day so everyone could get paid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come into the office today so I can close out end of month/year and because the phone guy is coming to put in a whole new phone system because ours died the last week we were here. The phone people said they would be here at 10:00. I get to work at 10:03 and the guys fixing the gutter are here but no phone guy. When he still wasn't here at 10:20 I called and the lady said he had to do some service calls this morning because they got behind with all the snow but she would call me when he was on his way. I keep working get all my stuff done and at 2:10 when he was still not here I call back. She said that he was on heading my way now. I asked her about the fact that they said it would take about six hours to install the whole thing which would be 8:00/9:00 at this point that he would finish and she tells me that they will just get the basics of the system running so we can have our voicemail and then come back on Monday when we are back in the office. Whatever, as long as they get the voicemail up so our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;patients&lt;/span&gt; can know that we are out of the office and the emergency number I don't care about the rest at this point. 3:00 the guy finally shows up and now I am done with all my work and have to sit here waiting for him to finish. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Bleh&lt;/span&gt;! The only work I have left to do is call on claims but I can't use the phone now since he's working on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I shouldn't really complain that I'm sitting here getting paid to do nothing but it's kind of boring being here all by myself and no TV!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4548563020650416059?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4548563020650416059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4548563020650416059' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4548563020650416059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4548563020650416059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-luck.html' title='My Luck'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1945180210783510675</id><published>2008-12-19T15:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T15:36:55.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow Days</title><content type='html'>If there was one thing that made me long for the days of childhood it would be snow days. I can't believe how many of them I took for granted and now wish I could go back and do them over again. My current employer, being a small business owner, knows that if the office is closed he doesn't make money and therefore doesn't ever close the office. I understand his point of view, being paid hourly I'm in the same position, but at the same time an occasional snow day is gives us a an unexpected break from life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday and Thursday my boss picked me and three other girls from work up from our homes and took us to work. That way we couldn't call out because we can't drive in the snow. So while everyone else got to get to go out and play in the snow I was answering phone calls. While everyone else got to come in and warm up with a mug of hot chocolate I was checking patients in and out. While everyone else was sitting by a warm fire reading I was checking on open claims. I think I became a little more of an adult this week and I don't like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Some days&lt;/span&gt; I long to be a child again. I remember being young longing to be an adult. I never believed people when they would tell me to enjoy my youth. My entire life being the youngest child I tried to be just like my older siblings. I wanted to be on their level in every way even though they were three, five and seven years older than me. I tried so hard that I grew up before my time and now I wish I could go back and enjoy being a kid. I guess it took missing my snow day to realize it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1945180210783510675?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1945180210783510675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1945180210783510675' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1945180210783510675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1945180210783510675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/12/snow-days.html' title='Snow Days'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-2518392307988492321</id><published>2008-12-19T15:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-19T15:38:57.151-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bush Monkey</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SUwqKr-bnkI/AAAAAAAAAFY/gw0oeyxBaCo/s1600-h/kenneth-briggs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281642826090389058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SUwqKr-bnkI/AAAAAAAAAFY/gw0oeyxBaCo/s320/kenneth-briggs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last Saturday we went to the Macaroni Grill in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lynnwood&lt;/span&gt; with Heather and Christian. Christian commented that the busboy looked really &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;familiar&lt;/span&gt; and we all agreed but couldn't place where we recognized him from. On &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt; I went to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;chiro&lt;/span&gt; appointment and was talking to the receptionist who I had seen at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt;. She asked if I had seen the American Idol guy there. I asked her what she was talking about and she said that the busboy had auditioned for American Idol but didn't make it onto the show. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Immediately&lt;/span&gt; I realized who she was talking about. I called Heather as soon as I got out to my car and let her know that Christian was right, he did recognize the busboy but it wasn't from the movie theater or another &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;restaurant&lt;/span&gt; it was from watching American Idol! We were very relieved to finally figure out why we recognized him. For all of you American Idol fans if you want to meet the "bush monkey" from the show head over the Macaroni Grill in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Lynnwood&lt;/span&gt;. I hear he even will sing for you if you ask.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-2518392307988492321?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/2518392307988492321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=2518392307988492321' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2518392307988492321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2518392307988492321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/12/last-saturday-we-went-to-macaroni-grill.html' title='Bush Monkey'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SUwqKr-bnkI/AAAAAAAAAFY/gw0oeyxBaCo/s72-c/kenneth-briggs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-7666609149321896503</id><published>2008-12-04T15:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T15:54:35.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Get It Right Lifetime!</title><content type='html'>The movie White Christmas is a staple in my family.  My sisters and I have probably watched it over a thousand times.  We have all the lines memorized, sang along to all the songs and even memorized a couple of the dance moves (as best a my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;uncoordinated&lt;/span&gt; body could do anyways).  The other day the Lifetime channel was playing the movie.  I started watching it but had to turn it off because they cut so many of the scenes.  Um, how could you cut out important scenes like when Bob and Phil get on the train and Bob finds out that Phil gave away their tickets to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Haynes&lt;/span&gt; sisters?  How can you cut out the "Snow" song they sing on the train and the entire "Mandy" dance!  I was so angry I kept yelling at the TV.  In my opinion if you are going to run a classic movie like White Christmas you run the whole thing.  You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wouldn't&lt;/span&gt; cut out parts of "Casablanca" would you?  Of course not, that would be ridiculous.  Therefore, give White Christmas the respect it deserves and play the movie in it's entirety!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-7666609149321896503?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/7666609149321896503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=7666609149321896503' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7666609149321896503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7666609149321896503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/12/get-it-right-lifetime.html' title='Get It Right Lifetime!'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1374840746791223916</id><published>2008-12-02T15:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T15:27:02.438-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Heterozygous</title><content type='html'>My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hematologist&lt;/span&gt; called today to let me know the results of my recent blood test.  I have a history of Factor V &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Leiden&lt;/span&gt; in my family, which if you have means you are prone to blood clots.  You can have one or two genes that are abnormal.  I have one which means I am slightly more at risk than the average person.  My doctor recommended that I go off any hormones (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ie&lt;/span&gt;. birth control) as that seems to be a trigger in my family.  My mom had a blood clot while pregnant with me.  I'm super upset now because all the non-hormonal birth control methods suck!  Stupid, stupid, stupid!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1374840746791223916?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1374840746791223916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1374840746791223916' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1374840746791223916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1374840746791223916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-heterozygous.html' title='I&apos;m Heterozygous'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-9173522465553877589</id><published>2008-11-30T14:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T14:24:03.750-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Redskins Game</title><content type='html'>Last week Russ and I went to see the Redskins play against the Seahawks.  Russ got us tickets in Section 108 (right behind the Redskins' bench) front row!  It was amazing!  I have never sat that close for any event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRnf-p6eI/AAAAAAAAAE0/a-cLF8T_w9E/s1600-h/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274578958877845986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRnf-p6eI/AAAAAAAAAE0/a-cLF8T_w9E/s320/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Russ and I before the game started.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRmTb-SuI/AAAAAAAAAEs/wd0Bm6rWdA4/s1600-h/216.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274578938331286242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRmTb-SuI/AAAAAAAAAEs/wd0Bm6rWdA4/s320/216.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Clinton Portis getting worked on during the game. (He was literally right in front of us!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRlwhTzwI/AAAAAAAAAEk/RWx1nkA9F7g/s1600-h/207.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274578928958426882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRlwhTzwI/AAAAAAAAAEk/RWx1nkA9F7g/s320/207.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Portis talking to Betts during the game&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRlZJauVI/AAAAAAAAAEc/mf0Jd22tsdo/s1600-h/LeAnn+%26+Russ+post+game.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274578922684201298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRlZJauVI/AAAAAAAAAEc/mf0Jd22tsdo/s320/LeAnn+%26+Russ+post+game.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Us after the game ended.  Redkins won!&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/3418810521317921254-9173522465553877589?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/9173522465553877589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=9173522465553877589' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/9173522465553877589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/9173522465553877589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/11/redskins-game.html' title='Redskins Game'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMRnf-p6eI/AAAAAAAAAE0/a-cLF8T_w9E/s72-c/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5388423715095170385</id><published>2008-11-30T14:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T14:16:08.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandpa Mickey</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMQd6TgkEI/AAAAAAAAAEU/5UZf5d9eS5I/s1600-h/Grandpa,Lauren,LeAnn.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274577694634315842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMQd6TgkEI/AAAAAAAAAEU/5UZf5d9eS5I/s320/Grandpa,Lauren,LeAnn.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMQdMy7NDI/AAAAAAAAAEM/XCdV_K6LDRE/s1600-h/Grandpa+%26+LeAnn.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274577682418054194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMQdMy7NDI/AAAAAAAAAEM/XCdV_K6LDRE/s320/Grandpa+%26+LeAnn.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before heading to San Francisco Lauren and I visited my Grandpa in Sacramento who had a stroke about a month before.  I know the first pick is really blurry but we could not get a good picture with the two of us in it so that's the best I have.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5388423715095170385?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5388423715095170385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5388423715095170385' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5388423715095170385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5388423715095170385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/11/grandpa-mickey.html' title='Grandpa Mickey'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMQd6TgkEI/AAAAAAAAAEU/5UZf5d9eS5I/s72-c/Grandpa,Lauren,LeAnn.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-8650744726928182255</id><published>2008-11-30T13:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T14:12:39.911-08:00</updated><title type='text'>San Francisco</title><content type='html'>I posted about a month ago about my sister Lauren running the San Francisco Marathon. Here are some pictures from the trip.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274573636369930898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMMxsF4WpI/AAAAAAAAADE/WDqP0T1Y2Wo/s320/Dog,+Cat,+Mouse.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This was down at Fisherman's Warf.  Cutest fricken thing I've ever seen.  It's a cat sitting on a dog while licking a mouse.  Later on we saw the dog walking down the street while the cat and mouse were still laying on top of him!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274573644563068834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMMyKnRt6I/AAAAAAAAADM/ZRXx_O3-ZEw/s320/Lauren,+LeAnn,+Statues+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lauren and me posing like the statues on Fisherman's Warf.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274573686237183138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMM0l3KPKI/AAAAAAAAADU/XE4lm_1o3LQ/s320/Lauren+%26+LeAnn+on+Boat+2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;(Above) Lauren and me on the boat before our tour of the bay.  (Below) Pictures from the tour.  Golden Gate Bridge/Alcatraz&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274573705568618066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMM1t4IhlI/AAAAAAAAADc/8zjXBvX9t_8/s320/128.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274573720545492354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMM2lq5fYI/AAAAAAAAADk/PYykIWCHgxY/s320/145.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274574324051152226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMNZt53DWI/AAAAAAAAADs/I8DIp3V6FEs/s320/Pre-Marathon.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lauren about fifteen minutes before the race started.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274574333076969538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMNaPhyGEI/AAAAAAAAAD0/hL-cBmPCoJU/s320/Lauren+half+way.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lauren at teh half way point.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274574340728826066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMNasCIKNI/AAAAAAAAAD8/2S6ii4olOfw/s320/LeAnn+%26+Lauren+post+race.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Lauren and me after she finished.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274574342807164434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMNazxpFhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/DE-7r0ReWQY/s320/Seagull+%40+Cheesecake+Factory.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;After Lauren finished the marathon we went back to the hotel and took a nap.  Then we went to Cheesecake Factory for dinner.  It was on the top floor of Macy's.  We sat outside and this seagull sat on the ledge begging for food.  I thought it was funny so I took a picture.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-8650744726928182255?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/8650744726928182255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=8650744726928182255' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8650744726928182255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8650744726928182255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/11/san-francisco.html' title='San Francisco'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMMxsF4WpI/AAAAAAAAADE/WDqP0T1Y2Wo/s72-c/Dog,+Cat,+Mouse.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1338149749780698789</id><published>2008-11-30T13:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T13:53:55.996-08:00</updated><title type='text'>California Trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Back in September Russ and I went down to southern California to vist my dad and do all the touristy things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We started off by going to a Dodger game.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274569442222937410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMI9jrUFUI/AAAAAAAAACk/vfoOYkoNZmU/s320/LeAnn+%26+Russ+%40+game.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The next day we were able to visit first my uncle, aunt and cousins from my dad's brother (Uncle John, Aunt Cindy, Stacy, Mike, Jill, Amy and all of their families. Then we met up with my cousin Denise (from my mom's side). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The next day we went to the Huntington Beach and then to Dave and Buster's for dinner. We always see comercials for Dave and Buster's but don't have any around us so Russ was really excited.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274570713758329666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMKHkg-a0I/AAAAAAAAACs/J5TADxoVIL4/s320/Seagull.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;On Tuesday we went to Disneyland and it was so much fun. A little tip going to Disneyland on a Tuesday toward the end of September = awesome! It was great weather and all the lines were at most a five minute wait.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274571785116059362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMLF7okBuI/AAAAAAAAAC8/vGZ-DJNMrVo/s320/Russ,LeAnn+Castle.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1338149749780698789?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1338149749780698789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1338149749780698789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1338149749780698789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1338149749780698789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/11/california-trip.html' title='California Trip'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STMI9jrUFUI/AAAAAAAAACk/vfoOYkoNZmU/s72-c/LeAnn+%26+Russ+%40+game.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-7484125224317870127</id><published>2008-10-20T19:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T20:02:39.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Sister Is Amazing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;*I have been waiting to post about a few things because I wanted to attach photos.  I don't know when I will ever get around to loading them on the computer so I at least wanted to get this post on.  I will add pictures later.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was young I was the "athlete" of the family.  My swim instructor (who I think was an ex-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Olympian&lt;/span&gt;) wanted my mom to put me in training for the Olympics.  When playing tag in my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cul&lt;/span&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt;-sac I could outrun the junior high neighbor boy and I won all my races on Field Day.  My sister Lauren had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;asthma&lt;/span&gt; and would sometimes need to use her inhaler after recess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Fast forward&lt;/span&gt; about twenty years and I was exhausted and my body ached after walking around San Francisco for twenty minutes.  Lauren was exhausted and her body ached too.  The only difference she had just run a marathon.  That's right a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fricken&lt;/span&gt; marathon, that's 26.2 miles.  She didn't walk this marathon, no, she ran her ass off and finished in four hours and thirty eight minutes.  Take away fifteen minutes she waited in line at mile six and that's under four and a half hours (I told her she should have peed before the race started). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's safe to say that she is now the "athlete" of the family and I couldn't be more proud of her.  She is seriously amazing.  She put her mind to it and trained hard and it all paid off.  Lauren, I love you so much.  I hope you know how proud I am and maybe even a little jealous of you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-7484125224317870127?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/7484125224317870127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=7484125224317870127' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7484125224317870127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7484125224317870127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-sister-is-amazing.html' title='My Sister Is Amazing'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-257548917052233516</id><published>2008-09-29T19:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T19:24:31.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Self Reflections From Insomnia</title><content type='html'>As I laid awake last night unable to sleep (my new Sunday night ritual) I had some moments of self reflection.  You always hear that the first step to solving a problem is to admit you have a problem; however, you never hear what the next step is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've come to realize over the last few months that I am in a sense a very selfish person.  I unrealistically &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; that I have had more problems/bad things happen to me in my life and at a younger age than most people.  At one point I made a list of everything bad that has happened to me since I was 14 years old.  The list was a page and a half long and realistically looking at it I knew that there were a lot more people with a lot longer of a list or at least a lot worse of things on it.  Inside though I still want to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; that I've had a hard life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of "all the horrible" things that have happened to me when things go wrong I internalize it.  I feel like nobody else would understand and even if they did I don't want to bother them with my problems.  It's almost like I want to keep these bad things to myself like it was a special gift for me and only me.  I push everyone away, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;especially&lt;/span&gt; the ones that love me most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that logically speaking all of this is crazy.  That I'm crazy and yet I can't change it.  I know when I am acting stupid and being "selfish" with my pain and yet I can't stop it.  I've been working on "me" for about four years now and I think I've come a long way, but these little things just won't go away.  There is really few things worse than being crazy and being able to identify that you are being crazy but not being able to stop it or change it.  It's a very helpless feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want anyone to worry about me.  Nothing has changed, I've been dealing with these feelings for a while now.  I just figured that my blog isn't only for the happy moments but for all moments of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-257548917052233516?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/257548917052233516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=257548917052233516' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/257548917052233516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/257548917052233516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/09/self-reflections-from-insomnia.html' title='Self Reflections From Insomnia'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-7556754562059363077</id><published>2008-09-19T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-19T13:08:31.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Back to Cali, Cali, Cali</title><content type='html'>I feel like I accomplished more today in four hours than I normally do all day. I woke up at 8:30 got ready and headed down to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lynnwood&lt;/span&gt; for my final &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;chiro&lt;/span&gt; appointment before I leave tomorrow. Then I drove down to Redmond where I stopped by the bank and took a few deposits for work and dropped off mail at the post office. Then I went to my doctor so I could have a blood test done. My doctor asked me in January to have the test done for Factor V (blood clotting gene) since my family has a history of it. I finally got around to it today but then I think they may have done the wrong test. I'm pretty sure it was supposed to be for Factor V-Leiden and they just did a regular Factor V. Then it was back up to Everett where I stopped by the store for some last minute supplies. Now I'm waiting for the laundry to get done so I can start packing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get in LAX tomorrow around three and then we'll pick up my dad at the train station before heading over to Dodger Stadium. I'm not sure what we are going to be doing on Sunday or Monday but one of those days I want to go to the beach. Tuesday it's Disneyland! I'm so excited! I think the last time I went to Disneyland was with my cousin Jill when I was fifteen. Then Wednesday we'll head back up to LAX and head home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's back to getting ready. I need to pack, clean up the house, and put my itinerary together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-7556754562059363077?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/7556754562059363077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=7556754562059363077' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7556754562059363077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7556754562059363077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/09/going-back-to-cali-cali-cali.html' title='Going Back to Cali, Cali, Cali'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-3091807866251108022</id><published>2008-09-17T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T18:26:41.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's An Idiot?  LeAnn's An Idiot!</title><content type='html'>On Monday while driving home from work I wanted to make a phone call but my ear bud thingy was in the back seat of my car.  I came up to a stop light so I tried to reach back and get it but it was a little out of reach.  Instead of taking off my seat belt or just forgetting it, I kind of jumped and reached back for it.  It worked but as I grabbed it I heard *pop*pop*pop*pop*pop*pop* my back popped a thousand times.  I didn't think anything of it until the next day I woke up and was in excruciating pain.  My back hurt so bad just breathing in was painful.  I went to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chiropractor&lt;/span&gt; after work and turns out I popped like ten ribs out of place!  She adjusted me and it helped a little but I have to go back in tomorrow for another adjustment.  I just hope it's better before I have to sit on a plane Saturday.  I really should know better than to mess around when it comes to my back.  Especially after everything I've done to try and fix it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-3091807866251108022?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/3091807866251108022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=3091807866251108022' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3091807866251108022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3091807866251108022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/09/whos-idiot-leanns-idiot.html' title='Who&apos;s An Idiot?  LeAnn&apos;s An Idiot!'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5556716388999408098</id><published>2008-09-16T10:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T10:24:40.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coffee? For Thought</title><content type='html'>I really liked to quote on my Starbucks cup today so I thought I would share it with all of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I have faith. Faith in our wondrous capacity for hope and good, love and trust, healing and forgiveness. Faith in the blessing of our infinite ability to wonder, question, pray, feel, think and learn. I have faith. Faith in the infinite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;possibilities&lt;/span&gt; of the human spirit." -James Brown, Emmy-winning sportscaster and co-host of FOX NFL Sunday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5556716388999408098?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5556716388999408098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5556716388999408098' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5556716388999408098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5556716388999408098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/09/coffee-for-thought.html' title='Coffee? For Thought'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4354044385536270530</id><published>2008-09-04T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T18:40:47.215-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Bit Of Catch Up</title><content type='html'>#1:  We bought a new lap top!  We probably shouldn't have spent money on it when it wasn't a necessary expense but I love it.  Now I can actually use the computer when I get home.  Before Russ would be on it all night (he got the computer and I got the TV).  I get to watch TV and play &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Mahjong&lt;/span&gt; at the same time!  Double score!  When I'm done with my computer time Russ gets to actually be upstairs with me so we see each other and actually get to talk and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2:  Everybody wanted to know what my bad day was all about a couple of weeks ago.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; it is work related and since we all know that blogs are not the most private of things I can't really go into detail about it all.  All I can say is that there has been a lot of drama lately and I think it will continue on.  I know the grass isn't always greener but I need to decide how brown my grass is getting at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3:  Have you ever said something out loud that you meant to say in your head?  Today a patient came in and I informed him that Dr. needed an updated health history.  He gave me the typical patient response of "nothing has changed."  Normally I explain that by law we have to have them fill a new one out every two years and I know its not very fun but I appreciate their willingness to comply and it's not so bad just a bunch of yes or no questions.  Today though for some reason when he said that I just blurted out "well it shouldn't be that hard then huh"  As soon as the words left my mouth I wished I could take them back.  I pride myself on my excellent customer service and while most people don't think a comment like that is anything bad in my mind I might as well have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;slapped&lt;/span&gt; the patient in the face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4:  I've been struggling a little bit with the two main rules in life; the golden rule (do unto others as you would have them do unto you) and follow your gut instincts.  Every once in a while we will get a scrubby looking person come into the office, use the bathroom and leave.  My instinct tells me they are going to use the bathroom to shoot up drugs or something but then I think what if that was Jesus would I not let him use the bathroom?  Same thing goes for dealing with people there have been several incidences lately where I want to tell somebody they are being stupid, being a brat, or I don't want to listen to them any more because I don't care what they are talking about.  Instead though I think if I were them I probably wouldn't want them to say those things to me so I keep my mouth shut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5:  Russ and I are going to visit my dad in California in a couple of weeks and I'm really excited.  We are going to go to Disneyland, go to the beach, and best of all get to see my dad.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Yay&lt;/span&gt; us!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4354044385536270530?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4354044385536270530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4354044385536270530' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4354044385536270530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4354044385536270530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/09/little-bit-of-catch-up.html' title='A Little Bit Of Catch Up'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1151110832165146822</id><published>2008-09-04T18:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T18:17:45.607-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Ready For Some Football....</title><content type='html'>Football officially started tonight and to make it even better the Redskins are playing.  They aren't doing so well as of right now but it's still fun for me to watch.  Russ not so much, he gets very upset at every play.  It's funny I never thought I would look forward to football season but I really am this year.  I like waking up Sunday morning making the Thorpe favorite breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and southern style &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hash browns&lt;/span&gt; (little squares of potatoes) then sitting down and watching football literally ALL day.  Sometimes it can get a little boring but it helps that I have a fantasy team so I want to see how my guys are doing and if I'm winning.  Hopefully the Redskins can pull their heads out of their butts this year and actually do something.  Go Redskins!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1151110832165146822?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1151110832165146822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1151110832165146822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1151110832165146822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1151110832165146822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/09/are-you-ready-for-some-football.html' title='Are You Ready For Some Football....'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1287298404758642251</id><published>2008-08-11T15:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T15:35:50.230-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GRRRRRRRR......</title><content type='html'>Some days just make you want to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;grrrrrrrrrrrr&lt;/span&gt; at the world.  Today is one of those days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1287298404758642251?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1287298404758642251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1287298404758642251' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1287298404758642251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1287298404758642251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/08/grrrrrrrr.html' title='GRRRRRRRR......'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-8316995303493738893</id><published>2008-08-04T19:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T19:22:31.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Tag</title><content type='html'>TEN YEARS AGO... I had just turned 15 and was about to enter into high school (in Redmond high school is 10-12 grades). It was pretty much just me and my dad at home since Lauren was about to head off to college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THINGS ON MY "TO DO" LIST... I need to call the woman in charge of my claim from my car accident and accept her offer, she's called me about five times and sent three letters already and I keep putting it off. Other than that not really anything. I guess get ready for camping this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A SNACK I ENJOY... It might be easier to list snacks I don't enjoy, LOL. I like most chips, sour candy, licorice (black and red), fruit, chocolate, bread, ice cream, cookies... the list could go on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THINGS I WOULD DO IF I WERE A MILLIONAIRE... I would by a nice house in the Lynnwood area (that would probably be around 500,000) and pay off all my debt. If we didn't have any debt we would probably be doing pretty well for ourselves already...someday...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PLACES I HAVE LIVED... From birth to age three I lived in La Puenta, CA. Three to eight was in Whittier, CA. Eight to eighteen was in Redmond, WA in two different houses. When I was eighteen I lived in Lake City, WA for about six months, then back to Redmond, WA for six months. Nineteen was Kirkland, WA for six months then Bellevue, WA for eight months. Twenty took me back to Redmond for three months then Monroe for six months. Twenty one took me back to Redmond for four months. Then it was off to Everett where I've been ever since, a year in an apartment and then my townhouse where I am now, for the last three years. All that moving around should give you a little insight into how chaotic my life was for the first three years after I turned 18.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW FOR TAGGING... I know most people hate these thingies so whoever wants to do it go for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-8316995303493738893?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/8316995303493738893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=8316995303493738893' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8316995303493738893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/8316995303493738893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/08/another-tag.html' title='Another Tag'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1029321125486678247</id><published>2008-08-04T13:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T13:39:29.833-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Cops</title><content type='html'>"Is there a reason for the speed today?"&lt;br /&gt;"I didn't think I was."&lt;br /&gt;"How fast do you think you were going?"&lt;br /&gt;"Like 67." Really I thought 70 but 67 sounded better.&lt;br /&gt;"Your in a 60 zone. License and registration."&lt;br /&gt;"Really?" as I hand him my license and registration.&lt;br /&gt;He walks back to his car and comes back with the ticket. Didn't even really give me a chance to explain anything. He handed me the ticket, went through his little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;spiel&lt;/span&gt; about my options and started to walk off.&lt;br /&gt;"It's really 60 here, cause I thought the last sign I saw said 65."&lt;br /&gt;"Its 65 on the other side of Othello, this side is 60."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so angry, after he left I looked at the ticket and it said I was going 75mph! There is no way! If I was though it was because I had just passed somebody (for which the law states you are allowed to go 10 over the limit) and was in the process of slowing down. I don't know how he even got me on radar since he was going the opposite direction of me. I would totally go to court and explain myself since I didn't get the chance to with the cop except for Othello is like two and half/three hours away. So I'll pay the stupid ticket but you better &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; I'll be sending in a letter explaining myself with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I have been pulled over three times and gotten a ticket three times. I don't know anybody else who hasn't gotten away without a ticket at least one time. I think I give off a vibe that makes cops hate me or something. I am very proud of myself though for not crying. The first time I got pulled over when I was sixteen I couldn't stop crying and the cop yelled at me to stop and that just made it worse. Then I made my dad drive all the way down to Tacoma to come get me because I didn't want to drive anymore The second time I managed to hold it together until the cop left and then I started bawling and made my boyfriend at the time come and get me and drive me to work. So this time when I didn't cry and was able to finish my long drive home I felt very mature.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1029321125486678247?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1029321125486678247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1029321125486678247' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1029321125486678247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1029321125486678247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/08/stupid-cops.html' title='Stupid Cops'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-2446513992300034846</id><published>2008-08-01T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T09:19:36.243-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pullman or Bust</title><content type='html'>I'm getting ready to head over to Pullman to see my sister Ali and her family.  I'm driving all by myself and its about a five hour drive with half of it through a whole lot of nothing.  I'm a little nervous because I've never driven that far by my self before but I'm really excited to see my family.  Wish me luck and keep your fingers cross that I make it there ok.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-2446513992300034846?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/2446513992300034846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=2446513992300034846' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2446513992300034846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2446513992300034846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/08/pullman-or-bust.html' title='Pullman or Bust'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-647134781966190608</id><published>2008-07-27T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T08:54:26.791-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture Blog Tag</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Picture Blog Tag&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rules are you have to take ten pictures of the following things and you have to do it right now. No straightening up, cleaning, or wiping your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;children's&lt;/span&gt; nose. Then tag five others.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. The Fridge&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0y5fe2vqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/OaAcVNcohMg/s1600-h/DSC00606.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227890705731862178" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0y5fe2vqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/OaAcVNcohMg/s320/DSC00606.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0usxvcA-I/AAAAAAAAAA0/odCmGyz0MKQ/s1600-h/DSC00607.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227886089248441314" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0usxvcA-I/AAAAAAAAAA0/odCmGyz0MKQ/s320/DSC00607.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't remember the last time we went actual grocery shopping. Notice its pretty much just drinks in the fridge and mostly Russ' beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. The Closet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0vhE9YZ7I/AAAAAAAAAA8/kXv7vLG8Qmo/s1600-h/DSC00614.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227886987760396210" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0vhE9YZ7I/AAAAAAAAAA8/kXv7vLG8Qmo/s320/DSC00614.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0vh6MuXSI/AAAAAAAAABE/4nB9Vrff9GA/s1600-h/DSC00613.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227887002051829026" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0vh6MuXSI/AAAAAAAAABE/4nB9Vrff9GA/s320/DSC00613.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally there are clothes all over the floor but today was laundry day. Russ likes to say that my hamper "threw up" all over the closet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Self Portrait&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0wgaacuPI/AAAAAAAAABM/tlxM5oRAmrY/s1600-h/DSC00633.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227888075851217138" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0wgaacuPI/AAAAAAAAABM/tlxM5oRAmrY/s320/DSC00633.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Favorite Room&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0ww6ddgjI/AAAAAAAAABU/NeV_vCfOOYk/s1600-h/DSC00617.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227888359331693106" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0ww6ddgjI/AAAAAAAAABU/NeV_vCfOOYk/s320/DSC00617.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;TV is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; my addiction. Typically I come home from work and start watching TV and don't turn it off until I'm asleep. My family used to joke that I was a walking TV guide and I think the nickname still works today.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Kitchen Sink&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0xVwA023I/AAAAAAAAABc/gO9iP3kSCDU/s1600-h/DSC00619.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227888992182393714" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0xVwA023I/AAAAAAAAABc/gO9iP3kSCDU/s320/DSC00619.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I take no claim to whether or not this was clean. It's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Russ'&lt;/span&gt; job to do the dishes, and vacuum, and the toilets, and pretty much anything that has to do with cleaning....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Laundry Room&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0x89U6yCI/AAAAAAAAABk/vJEJZKKFxZ0/s1600-h/DSC00620.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227889665771227170" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0x89U6yCI/AAAAAAAAABk/vJEJZKKFxZ0/s320/DSC00620.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0x9q0LfSI/AAAAAAAAABs/eO-iTR6AyyA/s1600-h/DSC00621.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227889677981941026" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0x9q0LfSI/AAAAAAAAABs/eO-iTR6AyyA/s320/DSC00621.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We don't have so much a laundry room as we do a laundry closet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. The Toilet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0yZyuBkiI/AAAAAAAAAB0/IXeOHSN0ZHs/s1600-h/DSC00622.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227890161139946018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0yZyuBkiI/AAAAAAAAAB0/IXeOHSN0ZHs/s320/DSC00622.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Russ deleted the picture with the toilet seat up...it was clean so I don't know what he was scared to show you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. What your kids are doing right now&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0z7CH8wTI/AAAAAAAAACE/DgptPV9djg4/s1600-h/DSC00630.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227891831722524978" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0z7CH8wTI/AAAAAAAAACE/DgptPV9djg4/s320/DSC00630.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since I don't have kids I would say that my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;DVR&lt;/span&gt; is my baby. Best thing ever invented in all of time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Dream Vacation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI00jv24UcI/AAAAAAAAACM/qRUhBpK9j8k/s1600-h/greece3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227892531193729474" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI00jv24UcI/AAAAAAAAACM/qRUhBpK9j8k/s320/greece3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've always wanted to go to Greece and Italy. Right now Greece is the most prominent in my thoughts. It just seems so beautiful and all that history!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Favorite Shoes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI01NByBoUI/AAAAAAAAACU/PSzUlr35ZOk/s1600-h/DSC00625.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227893240379842882" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI01NByBoUI/AAAAAAAAACU/PSzUlr35ZOk/s320/DSC00625.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI01Nq6mZ7I/AAAAAAAAACc/Yu98wW1RTTc/s1600-h/DSC00627.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227893251421661106" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI01Nq6mZ7I/AAAAAAAAACc/Yu98wW1RTTc/s320/DSC00627.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;wearing&lt;/span&gt; shoes. I can't stand for my feet to be suffocating. If I had to choose a pair however it would be my basic black flip flops.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;don't&lt;/span&gt; have five people to tag that haven't already been tagged and who I know read my blog so, I tag Heather and Lindsay and whoever is reading this that hasn't already been tagged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-647134781966190608?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/647134781966190608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=647134781966190608' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/647134781966190608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/647134781966190608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/07/picture-blog-tag.html' title='Picture Blog Tag'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SI0y5fe2vqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/OaAcVNcohMg/s72-c/DSC00606.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5472579541262434977</id><published>2008-07-21T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T08:54:26.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad Men</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SITmXbykmdI/AAAAAAAAAAU/67jyXF3SMvs/s1600-h/mad_men.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225554757927868882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SITmXbykmdI/AAAAAAAAAAU/67jyXF3SMvs/s320/mad_men.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is quickly becoming my new favorite show. I'd heard of it before but didn't really know what it was all about. I saw an ad On Demand for it and decided to give it a try since nothing else was on. It is AMAZING. Right now season one (13 episodes) are On Demand. I've watched 11 of the 13. Its about an ad agency in New York City in the year 1960. It's one of the those shows you can't stop thinking about all day long. Not having lived through the 60's I'm positive it is an accurate depiction of the era and will probably be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;devastated&lt;/span&gt; if I found out it wasn't. Everyone smokes and drinks (including pregnant women). All the business men have multiple affairs, the wives either truly don't know about or choose to ignore. The secretary's are treated like crap or whores. I get so angry when I watch it that I yell at the TV. I never really considered myself a feminist but I guess maybe that's because I never lived in a time when women were thought of as nothing. I think everybody should watch it and love it. The second season starts next week, the 27&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; I think and I can't wait.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5472579541262434977?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5472579541262434977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5472579541262434977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5472579541262434977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5472579541262434977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/07/mad-men.html' title='Mad Men'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SITmXbykmdI/AAAAAAAAAAU/67jyXF3SMvs/s72-c/mad_men.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-6802404330581142315</id><published>2008-07-15T14:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T14:58:48.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Own My Car!</title><content type='html'>When I was 19 years old I bought my car all by myself.  I went out and found a place that would give me the loan, researched what kind of car I wanted, went to two different dealerships and filled out all the paperwork by myself.  (Ok so my dad did come and help out at the dealership when the guys were being mean to me but still.)  Yesterday I made my final payment on it and now it is mine all mine.  I even payed off my six year loan seven months early!  I'm so amazing!  Now all that's left to do is wait for the title to come in the mail.  I think I'm more excited about having it paid off than I am when I actually got the car.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-6802404330581142315?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/6802404330581142315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=6802404330581142315' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6802404330581142315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6802404330581142315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-own-my-car.html' title='I Own My Car!'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-1071735123548237911</id><published>2008-07-08T18:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T08:54:27.102-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Grandpa</title><content type='html'>About a month ago I got a call from my sister that my grandpa had died (my dad's dad). I haven't talked to or seen him in about five years so I was surprised at how hard it hit me. My grandpa was an amazing man with an amazing heart. I was able to go down to California for the funeral that weekend and amazingly all my siblings (from my dad) were able to make it too, including my brother that lives in Australia. This was the first time that all my siblings have been together at the same time in like five or six years! The circumstances weren't the greatest but I had an amazing time visiting with all of them.&lt;br /&gt;                                                   &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SHQWuU_sIFI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0f3Gwl8Kz34/s1600-h/kds.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220822853194883154" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SHQWuU_sIFI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0f3Gwl8Kz34/s320/kds.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the highlights of the weekend was sitting around sharing stories about my grandpa.  My favorite was how he handled my dad.  It turns out that my dad was quite the wild child in his youth (so that's where I get it from).  When he would do something stupid my grandpa would simply say, "did you learn something from this" to which my dad would answer yes.  "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; then."  That was it, that simple.  Now if it happened again then obviously something was not learned and he would have to sit down and give one of his "famous" lectures.  He understood that in order to grow and learn some mistakes would need to be made and a punishment isn't always necessary.  I know that my dad learned to be a great dad because of my grandpa's example.  If my dad hadn't learned about compassion and forgiveness we never would have been able to have the close relationship that we did when I was a teenager.  Even though we weren't close in his last years I know my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;grandpa&lt;/span&gt; loved me and that he's helping to watch over me now.  Grandpa I love you so much!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-1071735123548237911?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/1071735123548237911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=1071735123548237911' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1071735123548237911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/1071735123548237911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-grandpa.html' title='My Grandpa'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/SHQWuU_sIFI/AAAAAAAAAAM/0f3Gwl8Kz34/s72-c/kds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4332178820708771345</id><published>2008-07-02T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T18:27:01.494-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Officially a Bunco Player</title><content type='html'>A few months ago Heather asked me to sub for one of the girls in her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bunco&lt;/span&gt; group. I was a little unsure (everyone in the group is Mormon except for Heather). The ward I grew up in was full of caddy, mean, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;judgemental&lt;/span&gt;, cliquey women and so I assumed that's how most adult &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Mormon&lt;/span&gt; women are.  I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;pleasantly&lt;/span&gt; surprised when they were all warm and welcoming to me.  I had so much fun that when I was asked to sub again I said yes.  I had a great time again getting to know everyone.  I was surprisingly talkative and not my usual social anxiety ridden self.  The only downfall was that we played outside since it was such a nice day and I got a bunch of mosquito bites.  Someone mentioned that they needed someone &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;permanently&lt;/span&gt; and asked if I wanted to join up.  I said yes and so now I'm officially a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Bunco&lt;/span&gt; player with a bunch of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Mormons&lt;/span&gt;.  All this after I promised my cousin Stacy that I would consider going back to church.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;.... Is God trying to tell me something?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4332178820708771345?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4332178820708771345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4332178820708771345' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4332178820708771345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4332178820708771345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-officially-bunco-player.html' title='I&apos;m Officially a Bunco Player'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-6403983663304416813</id><published>2008-06-23T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T13:36:47.460-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Return of the Dirty Old Man</title><content type='html'>I have a lot to catch everyone up on but don't have a lot of time right now so look for a long blog to come.  I had to let everyone know that the dirty old man at my office returned today (the one that told me I was looking good in my trousers) and had another uncomfortable moment.  He told the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hygienist&lt;/span&gt; that he saw today that she needed to stop losing weight.  She's been hiking and working out a lot and he thought she was getting too skinny.  She said that she would cut back on the hiking and he told her she needed to really cut back on sex not hiking.  Can you imagine!  The man is 79 years old, its like your grandpa talking about sex, gross!  I just gave him an awkward "your not funny" look and scheduled him his next appointment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-6403983663304416813?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/6403983663304416813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=6403983663304416813' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6403983663304416813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6403983663304416813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/06/return-of-dirty-old-man.html' title='Return of the Dirty Old Man'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-3804974241611975195</id><published>2008-06-04T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T13:20:25.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a quarter of the way through my life</title><content type='html'>On Sunday (June 1st) I turned 25.  Sometimes I feel old when I find out people I remember as like seven year olds are graduating high school but most of the time I still feel young.  My birthday stuff started out on Thursday when I got a beautiful fruit bouquet from my sister Lauren delivered to me at work.  Friday I received the movie "Dragonfly" and the book "Eat, Pray, Love" in the mail from Lauren.  I'm a third of the way through the book and it is amazing so far.  Saturday Russ and I went over to Heather and Christian's and had a Board/Video Game Olympics.  It was a lot of fun playing games like Operation, Twister, MarioKart, Life, Pass the Pigs, etc.  I (of course *wink*wink*) was the ultimate champion of our first ever Game Olympics!  I got a small trophy and everything!  We went to dinner at Azteca and we were all wearting are bright green dealer visor's because one of the rules was you couldn't take it off or you would lose points.  Everyone was looking at us like we were crazy especially me with my big blue feather boa.  Russ made sure to mention a few times that they needed to bring out the big sombrero and sing to me, which they did as soon as Russ got up to go to the bathroom =).  Heather and Christian got me a pair of Victoria Secret Pink sweats (so soft and comfy) and a slushy maker with syrup and an extra cup.  Russ gave me my present on Saturday, a beatiful sliver dragonfly with diamonds for the tail and in the wings.  Sunday I went over to my mom's for dinner.  She barbequed steak, chicken and hamburgers.  She got me two shirts, lots of my favorite candies and some really cute beachy looking candles.  The last stop on my birthday stuff will be tomorrow (June 5th) when I finally get my dragonfly tattoo!  I'm super excited but also super nervous.  More on how that goes later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-3804974241611975195?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/3804974241611975195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=3804974241611975195' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3804974241611975195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3804974241611975195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-quarter-of-way-through-my-life.html' title='I&apos;m a quarter of the way through my life'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4050634302989819901</id><published>2008-04-27T20:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T12:40:54.531-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday Nights Just Got a Little More Interesting</title><content type='html'>Russ and Christian joined an all male softball team. They play Friday nights and play two games against the same opponent. Heather and I went to cheer on our husbands and were not disappointed on being entertained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first game went well with the guys team winning. Nothing too excited &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;happened&lt;/span&gt;, a couple of the players on the opposite team were a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;whiny&lt;/span&gt; but nothing big. Heather and I left about five minutes before the second game started to go and get some coffee and returned around the third inning. One of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wives&lt;/span&gt; who is the score keeper told us that we missed an almost fight between the two teams apparently the guys started mouthing off to each other. A few minutes after we got there the other teams pitcher and catcher kept complaining to the ump and making up rules and whatnot. Heather and I started to mouth off to them a little to just play the game and stop complaining. Apparently the catcher didn't like that very much because he told us to "shut the F*** up" and that he was "going to kick our a**" and so on. I said "oh that's great you're really going to cuss out a girl" and he got pretty upset and started to yell even more. Eventually the ump threw him out of the game. A minute later he started to head over in our direction so Heather got her phone out in case she needed to call 9-1-1. The dude was really scary. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Fortunately&lt;/span&gt; he was only trying to talk to the ump and explain his case. Still, I don't think I've ever been as frightened by a man in my life as I was at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a funnier note, Heather and I were talking and not paying attention when all of a sudden I hear "heads!" I look up and the ball is coming right for me. I leaned over on Heather and tried to push her over so I could get over but ended more on top off her so she couldn't move. The ball missed us by inches! It was pretty intense...Of course off all the spectators the ball would find it's way over to me and Heather.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4050634302989819901?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4050634302989819901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4050634302989819901' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4050634302989819901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4050634302989819901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/04/firday-nights-just-got-little-more.html' title='Friday Nights Just Got a Little More Interesting'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-2058807136579160531</id><published>2008-04-10T14:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T16:42:54.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sicky Sick Girl</title><content type='html'>Monday morning I woke up and uvula (the little bally thingy that hangs down in the back of your mouth) was swollen. It was a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;irritating&lt;/span&gt; but not to bad. Tuesday the pain and swelling extended down to my non-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tonsils&lt;/span&gt; (the place my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;tonsils&lt;/span&gt; used to be until I had them out five years ago). Still not too bad until I got home Tuesday night. I asked Russ what he wanted for dinner and he said he wanted &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Sheppard's&lt;/span&gt; pie (my family's version is mashed potatoes, hamburger meat and corn all mixed together) which is my favorite. Normally I don't have enough energy to make that kind of a meal on a weekday but I felt up to it so I stopped at the store to get the ingredients and went to work making it. After mixing up the mashed potatoes I took a scoop to see if it needed more butter or anything. My throat felt like it was on fire! Tears started welling up in my eyes and I took a sip of water to try and clear out the burning only the water made it burn too! So I just sat and watched as Russ ate his delicious mashed potatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got to work on Wednesday feeling miserable everyone told me that I HAD to go and see the Dr. I finally gave in and called and they could see me in about two hours. I left work and told everyone I would be back around 1:00. The Dr. took one look at my non-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;tonsils&lt;/span&gt; and thought I had strep. She did a test and it came back negative but she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; believe it was really negative. So she took another sample to send off to a lab and said we wouldn't find out for two more days. She said that if it is strep she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; want me to be working with the public (since I'm kind of in a medical field) and so I couldn't go back to work today and I would have to continue missing work until we found out what it was. If it was strep I would have to take an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;antibiotic&lt;/span&gt; for 24 hours before I could return to work. Since she thought it was strep she said I could start taking the antibiotics now and be able to come to work Thursday. I chose that option. When I called work back to let them know I couldn't return I didn't get a very warm reception which frustrated me. The same people that insisted that I go see the Dr. were upset when I let them know the Dr. said I couldn't come back to work. My office manager spoke to my Dr. and they decided I shouldn't come back in, so I went home and slept for two hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I returned to work today going on 48 hours of not being able to eat or drink anything and completely drained. I just knew today was going to be a horrible day. I got a little worried when a patient who was mean to me last week came through the door. I was upset that I told him we needed to update his health history and threw a fit insisting he wasn't going to do it and throwing the clipboard down on the chair. So imagine my shock when he came bearing a dozen yellow roses with my name on them. He wanted to apologize for his behavior, he had a hard day that morning (a close friend had just passed away) and was taking it out on the wrong person. Of course I forgave him, I haven't gotten flowers from anyone but Russ in a long time. Then one of the assistants brought to my attention that we have a topical anesthetic spray that I could use. That stuff was sent from heaven. It tasted disgusting but with just a few sprays I was completely numb for two hours. I could now drink water!!!! I was never more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;grateful&lt;/span&gt; for something so simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully in a few more days I'll be able to eat some actual solid foods. I decided my first meal then will be a hot dog from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Costco&lt;/span&gt;, a doughnut or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;churro&lt;/span&gt;, and warm chocolate chip cookies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-2058807136579160531?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/2058807136579160531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=2058807136579160531' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2058807136579160531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/2058807136579160531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/04/sicky-sick-girl.html' title='Sicky Sick Girl'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-7166513545522888904</id><published>2008-04-04T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T16:41:30.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meany Head</title><content type='html'>I saw Dr. Oh about four months ago regarding the numbness, tingling, and twitches going on in my left leg and he told me I needed to stretch six times a day and it would get better but to have an MRI done on my neck to be sure. When nothing showed up in the MRI and four months later nothing was better my Chiro sent me back to him to re-eval the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw him today and he asked me if I had been stretching, I told him not as much as he had asked me to but some. Then he told me to try and touch my toes and bend this way and that way, etc. He had me sit down and put my leg up on a chair (just doing that hurt) and then reach and try to touch my toes. I didnt get very far before I welled up with tears because it hurt so bad. He measured with a ruler and I was ten inches away from my toe. He had me sit there stretching for five minutes while we talked. I told him that a lot of times at night when I stretched before bed it made the symptoms worse. He explained that I was stretching to hard, to go slow at first. He said that my muscles are wound way to tight and began to demonstrate (I really think he was just showing off) how most of the population can touch their toes with ease. He told me he wanted me to take at least five minutes at least three times a day (morning, noon, and night) and stretch,stretch,stretch. My eyes were welling up with tears the entire time he was talking and I finally broke down at this point and started crying. I asked him if he really thought it was realistic for me to do this. I have trouble waking up in the morning as is (thats a whole other problem I've been overwhelmed with lately) and have about ten minutes to get ready. It's not realistic to say while at work I can sit in the break room doing stretches in front of everyone. Which only leaves the night which I realistically could do while watching TV. I don't think he knew how to respond to me tears. He asked why I was crying and I told him its because I've been having this pain for almost five years now and I was tired of it. Being told to stretch all the time and the pain "should" go away wasn't something I really wanted to hear. I wanted a concrete this is why you hurt do this and you'll be better. He said that if I really wanted he could refer me to get another MRI done on my lower back this time and if nothing showed up we would know that he was right (what an ass!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the five minutes he explained that after that much time of stretching you should have at least a three inch improvement in your reach. We tried again and I was at nine inches, I gained one inch. He kind of laughed at me and said well, just keep stretching. Again, not what I wanted to hear and especially didnt want to be laughed at about it. I started to cry again, he handed me a tissue and said he would meet me up front. I walked out into a waiting room full of people with red, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. I was humiliated. It's Dr.'s like that that make me want to purposely not stretch because I dont want him to be right. He was so arrogant and uncaring, not the type of Dr. I need or want in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will stretch as much as I can and I do hope that it will help, that its all that simple but I will not give him any credit for it....butt hole.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-7166513545522888904?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/7166513545522888904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=7166513545522888904' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7166513545522888904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/7166513545522888904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/04/meany-head.html' title='Meany Head'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-43800222748098841</id><published>2008-03-24T14:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T14:24:47.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay for Surprises!</title><content type='html'>A month or so ago I heard that the musical Mama Mia was coming to town and got really excited.  I was going to get tickets for Heather and I to go as a birthday &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;present&lt;/span&gt; to her but they were only in town 3-18 through 3-23 and she was going to Spokane this weekend for Easter.  I was pretty bummed because I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; have anyone else to go with so I knew I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; going to see it.  That is until Sunday morning Russ gave me two tickets to last nights show as an Easter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;present&lt;/span&gt;!  I was so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;flippin&lt;/span&gt; excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't my favorite musical and the second half was a little slow, but it was really fun.  It was interesting how they made all the Abba songs fit into the story line so easily.  I didn't know Abba even had that many songs.  Poor Russ suffered through it all (thank goodness they serve beer before the show and at intermission) and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;didn't&lt;/span&gt; even complain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-43800222748098841?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/43800222748098841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=43800222748098841' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/43800222748098841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/43800222748098841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/03/yay-for-surprises.html' title='Yay for Surprises!'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-6731783046503495833</id><published>2008-03-13T11:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-13T12:13:24.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching Up...</title><content type='html'>Its been a while since I've had a chance to blog so a short list of events the past few weeks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Got my own new shiny super cool bowling ball!  Its red, white and black and the holes were drilled especially for my tiny little fingers and its ten pounds which you may think isn't very heavy but for this scrawny weakling it is. I love it though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  My ribs keep popping out of place!  For about six weeks now I've been battling them to go back in with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chiro&lt;/span&gt; and massage.  It was getting better until Tuesday when I sneezed really hard and out they came again.  It hurt so bad!  I saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;chiro&lt;/span&gt; that night and they adjusted me but it still didn't feel quite right.  Yesterday the pain was tolerable but this morning I woke up and thought I was going to die.  I couldn't even hook my bra myself and it hurt really bad trying to put my shirt on.  I took 800mg of ibuprofen when I got to work and iced it.  I have another appointment with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;chiro&lt;/span&gt; tonight.  Hopefully they fix me this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I finally got my hair cut after like six months of letting it get gross and icky.  I only cut a few inches (it falls right below my shoulders).  I decided I look like Monica from friends around the time of Ross' wedding (to Emily).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I recently started helping out at Gentle Dental on Fridays.  This has been really hard since I don't get my Friday play time in with Heather anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  I have recently been offered a job at two different dental offices.  I'm not really sure to do about this, I have a lot of soul searching to do about this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Heather's birthday is coming up and I'm not sure what to get her.  I have some ideas but I'm not quite sure about what to do.  Again, a lot of soul searching to do about this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  I almost talked myself into getting a puppy.  It was the cutes little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;puggle&lt;/span&gt; that I ever did see.  Thankfully Russ stood strong and wouldn't give me a "Yes" answer which I knew meant "No."  It was the right decision.  We do not need to be spending $600 on a dog right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  It recently came to my attention that this September will be ten years that Heather and I have been friends.  I decided that people go all out for anniversaries of relationships with boyfriends and husbands but never celebrate friendships.  I decided that Heather and I need to something big to celebrate our ten year anniversary cause I think its a big deal.  The only other people that have been in my life that long are family members and I think that says a lot.  I'm not sure she's completely on board yet but I'm trying to convince her to go to California with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That about sums up my life right now.  Hopefully I'll be more diligent about writing so I don't have to play "catch up" anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-6731783046503495833?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/6731783046503495833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=6731783046503495833' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6731783046503495833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/6731783046503495833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/03/catching-up.html' title='Catching Up...'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-462653393307727418</id><published>2008-02-24T10:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T11:10:27.663-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Sickness And In Health....</title><content type='html'>For a while now I've been dealing with a variety of symptoms with no explanation. I have had severe fatigue (to the point where I am literally falling asleep at my desk or I feel like I can't lift my arm up to answer the phone), my left arm and leg go numb and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tingly&lt;/span&gt;, I have muscle twitches in my left leg (kind of like a spasm), I've had little to no appetite, and I've been very forgetful. I've been going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;chiro&lt;/span&gt; for over a year now and it has helped some but not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt;. They &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;referred&lt;/span&gt; me to a nerve specialist guy who said I just need to stretch more, my muscles are wound up too tight. I had an MRI on my neck but nothing looked wrong. I finally told my GP that I think I have a sleeping disorder or something. She did some blood work and it appears that I am deficient in B12. It is very rare for a young person to have this unless they are vegan (which I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;definitely&lt;/span&gt; not) because you get B12 from animal products like eggs, milk, and meat. It also stores in your body for years at a time so it's hard to deplete the storage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did some research on the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;internet&lt;/span&gt; and it explains pretty much all of my symptoms. I also found that if gone untreated for too long it can effect your nervous system and become other diseases such as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Alzheimer's&lt;/span&gt; (which runs in my family, both my great grandma and grandma had it). I'm supposed to take 1000 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;mcg&lt;/span&gt; a day (normal is 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;mcg&lt;/span&gt; daily) for eight weeks and then have my blood retested to see if my body is absorbing it. I've been taking it for a week now and no sign of improvement but I think it will take a while to see results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to thank my husband and family and friends for putting up with me lately. I am a very cranky girl when I am tired which is all the time lately. My husband has picked up a lot of slack around the house when I can't force myself to get up and make dinner or clean up. He never gets frustrated with me. Just makes me a frozen pizza and gives me a kiss. I love him very much and can't even begin to explain how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;grateful&lt;/span&gt; I am for finding him. He really is amazing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-462653393307727418?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/462653393307727418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=462653393307727418' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/462653393307727418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/462653393307727418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/02/in-sickness-and-in-health.html' title='In Sickness And In Health....'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-5617341124615386267</id><published>2008-02-06T13:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T13:19:46.905-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty Old Man</title><content type='html'>Yesterday at work one of my favorite patients came in.  He's a 76 year old man.  He's always really nice to me and tells me funny stories of his past, and I'm always really nice to him and make him coffee and whatnot.   He brought his wife in and she went back to the op to get worked on he went and sat in the waiting area.  I brought his coffee out to him and as I handed it to him he said, "Can I ask you something?"  I said sure and he replied, "You look really good in those trousers....you fill them out nicely"  I was in shock!  He asked if he had embarrased me and I said a little.  I started to walk back to my desk when he added, "Do you spray them on?"  I didnt know what to say so I just walked away and said nothing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if this was a guy my age or even a little older I would have told him how inappropriate he was being but how do you say that to someone who could be my grandpa?  When I told Russ the story he just laughed and said "that's funny."  I was like it's not funny its disturbing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-5617341124615386267?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/5617341124615386267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=5617341124615386267' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5617341124615386267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/5617341124615386267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/02/dirty-old-man.html' title='Dirty Old Man'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-3462538053727120375</id><published>2008-01-31T12:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T12:35:46.320-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tax Time</title><content type='html'>So after the horror of finding out last year that Russ and I owed $1300 in taxes, I rushed right into my employer and changed my filing status from one to zero so they would take more taxes out.  That way this year we could hopefully get a refund instead.  That did not happen.  No, no, no, yet again we end up owing $1300!  How the heck does that work out!  I am so frustrated right now.  It just seems like any time we start to get our heads above water we sink right back down.  Now congress is talking about giving us back $1200 of the $1300 we paid last year.  Well are they going to account for the 12.9% intrest I've been having to accrue since I had to put my taxes on my credit card?  Yeah, didn't think so. Meh.  Taxes suck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-3462538053727120375?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/3462538053727120375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=3462538053727120375' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3462538053727120375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3462538053727120375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/01/tax-time.html' title='Tax Time'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-3228851772272069535</id><published>2008-01-29T11:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-29T11:28:21.278-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Squirrels</title><content type='html'>So I haven't felt like I had any thing really special to write about until just now.  At work we have a tree out back and Dr. has a little feeder on one of the branches that she fills with hazelnuts for all the squirrels in the area.  On the deck she keeps a tupperware container that has a flip up lid to hold the hazelnuts so its easy to pour into the feeder.   Today I met what very well could be the smartest squirrel in the world.  He decided that the hazelnuts in the tree weren't fresh enough for him so he hopped over to the deck and climbed ontop of the tupperware container.  It took him a minute or so of scratching and biting at the lid but he got it open!  Then he just sat on the container for a good five minutes reaching in, grabbing a handfull of nuts and eating them.  It was so so so funny and so cute!  I love my squirrels!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-3228851772272069535?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/3228851772272069535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=3228851772272069535' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3228851772272069535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/3228851772272069535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2008/01/squirrels.html' title='Squirrels'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3418810521317921254.post-4120334972342785230</id><published>2007-12-11T14:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T14:03:48.673-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Heather&apos;s Post'/><title type='text'>Making LeAnn Blog...</title><content type='html'>Hi this is Heather... and it's true I'm MAKING LeAnn blog. I'm so bored just reading my own blog that LeAnn MUST write SOMETHING!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I threatened, and I bet she thought I was kidding - but nope I did it. I created her a blog and here is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So LeeLee -- Post away!!! We're all waiting... And by "we" I mean me and probably Lauren too :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3418810521317921254-4120334972342785230?l=chicabicka.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/feeds/4120334972342785230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3418810521317921254&amp;postID=4120334972342785230' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4120334972342785230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3418810521317921254/posts/default/4120334972342785230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chicabicka.blogspot.com/2007/12/making-leann-blog.html' title='Making LeAnn Blog...'/><author><name>LeAnn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01213286169290521147</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lRpDlqDYe-Q/STjGH_r_2QI/AAAAAAAAAFA/0FMSz22jRBk/S220/Russ+%26+LeAnn+pre-game.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
