<?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-7939637</id><updated>2011-06-08T00:33:58.272-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Smarter By Myself</title><subtitle type='html'>Oh, Dickey, that's old news.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-113527022936470071</id><published>2005-12-22T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-12-22T09:50:29.373-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All I Want For Christmas</title><content type='html'>I know what the kids have gotten me for Christmas!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inspiration struck while listening to the song "Can't Stop The Rock."  I think - no, I know -  that Derek &amp; Heather have gotten me a giant cardboard figure of The Rock!  Heather told me that  they were going to get me another big wall hanging of John Elway but they found something better.  And what could be better that The Rock???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told Jess about it and he couldn't hide the smile.  I told Heather on the phone that I knew and I could tell from her voice that I was right.  She's just not a good liar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited!  I expect to see The Rock in my basement on Christmas!!  Merry Christmas to everyone!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-113527022936470071?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/113527022936470071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=113527022936470071' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/113527022936470071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/113527022936470071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2005/12/all-i-want-for-christmas.html' title='All I Want For Christmas'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-113059794960746398</id><published>2005-10-29T08:57:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-10-29T08:59:54.063-06:00</updated><title type='text'>For Halloween</title><content type='html'>I'm going to dress up like a pumpkin this year for work, I think.  Cute &amp; comfy!!  In the meantime:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;td bg="" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;Reeses Peanut Butter Cups&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#fffafa"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatkindofcandyareyouquiz/peanut-butter-cups.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very popular, one of you is not enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofcandyareyouquiz/"&gt;What Kind of Candy Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone has a Happy &amp;amp; safe Halloween and you get all the candy you want!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-113059794960746398?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/113059794960746398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=113059794960746398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/113059794960746398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/113059794960746398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2005/10/for-halloween.html' title='For Halloween'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-112989856623827274</id><published>2005-10-21T06:38:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-10-21T06:51:37.666-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Corri</title><content type='html'>My husband had pacemaker surgery yesterday afternoon. He was told a year ago that eventually he would need one. But the doctors did test after test after test for A WHOLE YEAR, never thinking that a pacemaker would be the solution to his problem! It makes me so mad to think of everything he's been through this past year when it could have been remedied then!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he's doing well.  Thank God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a fun story for you, though: Last week Derek &amp; Squatchy were over and we got to talking about weird names that people have for their children. I decided that the rule would be you had to name your kid after an herb or spice. The concensus at our house was Corriander Sage, Corri for short. What would you name your kid if those were the rules?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaannnd....my kids &amp;amp; husband might disagree with this but:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="400" align="center" border="1" border cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2" style="color:black;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#FF9900;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are Not Scary&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td align="center" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.quizdiva.net/bt/not-scary.jpg" alt="Not Scary!" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;Everyone loves you. Isn't that sweet?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/scaryquiz.html"&gt;How scary are you?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone have a wonderful weekend!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-112989856623827274?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/112989856623827274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=112989856623827274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/112989856623827274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/112989856623827274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2005/10/little-corri.html' title='Little Corri'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-112937863316480239</id><published>2005-10-15T06:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-10-15T06:17:13.173-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What Does Karen Need?</title><content type='html'>Apparently quite a few things:  I had &lt;a href="http://mattedspam.blogspot.com"&gt;Heather&lt;/a&gt; help me with this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen Needs to Grow Up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Karen Needs a New Job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen Needs A Lobotomy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Karen needs to learn how to compliment her workers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen needs to have full carbohydrate. stores, and be well hydrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Karen needs additional time for laundry and changing bed linen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen needs care and supervision twenty-fours hours a day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Karen needs to learn how to speak up for herself!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen needs money to buy the roller skates she desperately&lt;br /&gt;wants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Karen needs a hairstyle that requires minimal styling&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen needs a rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Karen needs to use the bathroom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen needs to tell her mom straight out to stop prying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt; Karen needs the money for the mentoring pizza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen needs to get out of Clayborne quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Karen needs someone to hold chimpy still while she rearranges his kneecaps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen needs a break.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-112937863316480239?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/112937863316480239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=112937863316480239' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/112937863316480239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/112937863316480239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2005/10/what-does-karen-need.html' title='What Does Karen Need?'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-112819660523923507</id><published>2005-10-01T13:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-10-01T13:56:45.246-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing The Rock</title><content type='html'>I'm sure you've heard from my children that I am a season ticket holder for the Denver Broncos.  I love the Broncos and try to never miss a game.  Sadly, I was in Las Vegas for the home opener against San Diego this year so I was determined not to miss the Monday night game vs. The Chiefs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Derek's wife Heather (Squatchy) came with me.  We always catch the Park-n-Ride in Parker so that we don't have to deal with game traffic in Denver.  We usually get there  in plenty of time to hit the restrooms, get a snack and get settled before the game starts.  Not this time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was an apparent hit &amp; run accident on I-25 which brought us to a complete standstill.  We could see the stadium, we could see the parachutes that flew in, we could see the fireworks...but not the game.  It started while we were still sitting on the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather took the time to call Derek on her cell phone.  This is what I heard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;H:  Hi, whatcha doin'?  I wish I was watching the game.  We're still stuck on the bus on the interstate.  Really, The Rock?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't help myself.  I yelled, "The Rock?  The Rock is there??  I'm missing The Rock?  I love The Rock!!!"  Everyone on the bus was staring at me.  It turns out that yes, wrestling superstar The Rock, whom I adore and think is very cute, was at the Bronco game for the opening segment, in a Bronco jersey, saying "Are you ready for some football."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never get to see famous people.  And I would have only been more disappointed if I had missed John Elway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-112819660523923507?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/112819660523923507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=112819660523923507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/112819660523923507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/112819660523923507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2005/10/missing-rock.html' title='Missing The Rock'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-111586468238631479</id><published>2005-05-11T20:24:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2005-05-11T20:24:42.420-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Tribe Called Tortoise?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I have a tribe.  It doesn't have a name.  We need a name.  I suggested The &lt;br /&gt;Tortoises since our tribe motto is "Slow &amp;amp; Steady Wins The Race."  I got laughed &lt;br /&gt;at.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;My boss says "You want to be a TURTLE?"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I manage a Big Lots store here in Colorado Springs and our boss has decided &lt;br /&gt;that we all need to play Survivor.  Like the TV show.  It's based on sales &lt;br /&gt;percent increase blah blah blah BUT!  Now I need to come up for a name for my &lt;br /&gt;tribe.  I can't think of any and I'm hoping you guys can help me!  Something &lt;br /&gt;clever, something funny.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Even though I've never watched Survivor, the one thing I knew was to form an &lt;br /&gt;alliance and do it early!  Six of us have banded together and last week we got &lt;br /&gt;to kick off two (2!!) managers....they were banished to Loser Island.  On &lt;br /&gt;Loser Island, the Big Loser has to do something really embarrassing but we don't &lt;br /&gt;know what yet.  We kicked off a guy from Denver &amp;amp; a guy from Washington and &lt;br /&gt;boy were they ticked!!  I just laughed.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;Our district manager tried to figure out who my alliance was with but found &lt;br /&gt;it difficult since EVERYONE voted those two off!  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="mobile-post"&gt;I'm really really concerned about forming an alliance within the alliance.  &lt;br /&gt;The people that are in my alliance are actually my biggest threats.  So...drama &lt;br /&gt;is in the future, I'll keep you all posted and don't forget to help me think &lt;br /&gt;of a name!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-111586468238631479?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/111586468238631479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=111586468238631479' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/111586468238631479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/111586468238631479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2005/05/tribe-called-tortoise.html' title='A Tribe Called Tortoise?'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-110745252668895279</id><published>2005-02-03T10:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-02-03T10:42:06.690-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Quee-gee Ouija Spook-Out</title><content type='html'>I've never really experienced the supernatural like my kids or my husband; &lt;br /&gt;I've never seen any ghosts or anything.  But I am intrigued by the prospect.  I &lt;br /&gt;believe it exists because I have seen sheer terror on Derek's face when he's &lt;br /&gt;experienced "a happening."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was in college someone gave us a Ouija Board for Christmas.  An old &lt;br /&gt;friend of mine was visiting from Denver that holiday season and we decided to &lt;br /&gt;try it out.  After we'd messed around a while with it, we decided to ask it if &lt;br /&gt;there were any spirits in the room.  The Ouija planchette pointed to "YES."  Of &lt;br /&gt;course we had to know who it was so we asked, "Who's in the room with us?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now my friend &amp; I lived 300 miles apart, didn't know the same people, hadn't &lt;br /&gt;gone to school together or had any contact with each other for several years.  &lt;br /&gt;I know for a fact that I was not making the Ouija move &amp; she swore that she &lt;br /&gt;wasn't either.  However, when the Ouija answered us that "BOBBY WARREN" was in &lt;br /&gt;the room, I really got spooked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bobby was a classmate of mine that died suddenly when we were seniors and my &lt;br /&gt;friend knew nothing about him or his death.  I know Ouija Boards aren't real &lt;br /&gt;but why did Bobby's name come up and not one of our grandparents or someone &lt;br /&gt;that we both knew who had died?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you believe in the mystical Ouija?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-110745252668895279?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/110745252668895279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=110745252668895279' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/110745252668895279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/110745252668895279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2005/02/quee-gee-ouija-spook-out.html' title='Quee-gee Ouija Spook-Out'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-110670107628408364</id><published>2005-01-25T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-01-25T17:57:56.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Childhood Games</title><content type='html'>What were your favorite games from when you were a kid?  Was it Annie Annie &lt;br /&gt;Over?  Prisoner Dodgeball?  Or maybe it was Mother May I?  Or even Kick The Can?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thanksgiving, one of the things our family does is play games.  A &lt;br /&gt;particular favorite is Pyramid.  (And yes, if I could get Donny Osmond to come to my &lt;br /&gt;house to host a Game Night, believe me, I would!)  Instead of playing the board &lt;br /&gt;game, we make our own categories.  Each person makes about seven, we divide &lt;br /&gt;up into teams of two (usually decided by goofy little drawings made by Derek*) &lt;br /&gt;and we play the game!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past Thanksgiving, one of my categories was Childhood Games.  I thought &lt;br /&gt;it would be a "cake" category, one that would give whoever chose it an &lt;br /&gt;automatic score of 7!  Unfortunately, only my brother &amp; I had apparently ever played &lt;br /&gt;the games I listed.   So, you out there in Blog Land, tell me; have you ever &lt;br /&gt;played Kick The Can?  Or Werewolf?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* = Derek is evil, we all know this by now,  but it was especially apparent &lt;br /&gt;when we would play Pyramid.  He would inevitably create what we now call The &lt;br /&gt;Pile O' Death.  Hard, horribly hard categories that no one but him could &lt;br /&gt;possibly know.  We learned to steer clear of any of his categories!  However, with &lt;br /&gt;the Childhood Games category, it seems that I accidentally entered the Pile O' &lt;br /&gt;Death Hall Of Fame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-110670107628408364?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/110670107628408364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=110670107628408364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/110670107628408364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/110670107628408364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2005/01/childhood-games.html' title='Childhood Games'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-110131961187056772</id><published>2004-11-24T11:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-24T11:06:51.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Derek</title><content type='html'>Collin wants some dirt on Derek.  But I'm afraid of Derek so I'll just think &lt;br /&gt;of some dust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Derek was going into Creative Kinder (preschool), he took his supplies &lt;br /&gt;the first day and his Dad went to walk him home and Derek was crying.  He &lt;br /&gt;wouldn't tell Jess what was wrong, he just said, "I wanna see Mom."  No matter &lt;br /&gt;what, he wouldn't tell Jess why he was crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as he got home, he rushed in the door and said, "Mom!!  They kept my &lt;br /&gt;Crayons!!"  I should have known then that he would be an artist.  Of course, &lt;br /&gt;the karaoke "genes" were there early on as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he was about 5 he would walk around the house singing "Did You Happen To &lt;br /&gt;See The Most Beautiful Girl In The World?"  It was cute!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we took him to the Park-n-Rec for swimming lessons, he quit the 2nd day &lt;br /&gt;because he said "THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL ME!!" (All they wanted him to do was &lt;br /&gt;jump off the diving board and get to the side of the pool.)  Derek doesn't like &lt;br /&gt;to swim to this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Thanksgiving everybody!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-110131961187056772?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/110131961187056772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=110131961187056772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/110131961187056772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/110131961187056772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2004/11/derek.html' title='Derek'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-109961838543394621</id><published>2004-11-04T18:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-11-04T18:33:05.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Things We Do For Love</title><content type='html'>I grew up in the country and had to travel Highway 50 every night on my way &lt;br /&gt;home from work.  The State Patrol was always there, waiting to catch somebody.  &lt;br /&gt;I drove my grandparents' old 1949 Pontiac (this was 1968 by the way) and on &lt;br /&gt;this particular evening I was stopped for having a burned out tail light.  Now, &lt;br /&gt;this was 10:30 at night, I had to be at college the next morning at 8, be to &lt;br /&gt;work by 5 so I had no time to fix that tail light.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked my fiance, who is now my husband, if he would do me a favor and &lt;br /&gt;follow me home that night and follow me REAL CLOSE so that the state patrolman &lt;br /&gt;couldn't see my tail light.  Well...he followed me SO close that he got a ticket &lt;br /&gt;for following too close!  Now I know this sounds bad, but I just kept on going. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jess (my husband) just informed me while I was writing this that he almost &lt;br /&gt;didn't marry me over this incident!  Haha!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-109961838543394621?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/109961838543394621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=109961838543394621' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109961838543394621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109961838543394621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2004/11/things-we-do-for-love.html' title='The Things We Do For Love'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-109603896027521540</id><published>2004-09-24T09:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-09-24T09:16:00.276-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Kids</title><content type='html'>When my kids were little, they always made me laugh.  (Now they just torture &lt;br /&gt;me.  Ha!) [or should I put "lol?"]  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I corrected Heather I used to say, "No, Heather.  N-O, no."  One day &lt;br /&gt;when she was unhappy with me for correcting her, she said, "No, Mommy!  P-Q, no!  &lt;br /&gt;When I grow big and you grow little I'm gonna tell YOU what to do!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time we were in Target when Derek was about 2 &amp; Heather was 5.  They were &lt;br /&gt;in the shopping cart and this really attractive young lady walked by and &lt;br /&gt;Derek reached his arms out &amp; said, "Hey Lady, I want you!"  I was embarrassed.  lol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather was 3 years old (this was right before Derek was born) and being a &lt;br /&gt;stay-at-home mom, I was able to read to her alot.  Well, she picked up on this &lt;br /&gt;and one day I was reading the funny papers to her but I needed to get dinner &lt;br /&gt;started so I would skip some of the words.  She caught me, though.  One of the &lt;br /&gt;words I missed was "hors d'ourves" and she said "Mommy, you didn't say 'horses &lt;br /&gt;delivered!"  She was so smart!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-109603896027521540?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/109603896027521540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=109603896027521540' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109603896027521540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109603896027521540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2004/09/my-kids.html' title='My Kids'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-109401154097353793</id><published>2004-08-31T22:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-08-31T22:05:40.973-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Axe Me How That Happened...</title><content type='html'>When I was 5, my brother Rex and my cousin Brian were 6 and the three of us &lt;br /&gt;were at my grandparent's house.  They lived in the country...they had a great &lt;br /&gt;old house, big barn and so forth.  My grandpa had a big tree stump by the barn &lt;br /&gt;and he kept his BIG ax in the stump, for this is where he cut his kindlin' for &lt;br /&gt;their wood-burning stove.  We decided we should help Grandpa cut the &lt;br /&gt;kindlin'.  Of course being the girl I was only allowed to watch (a blessing).  Rex &amp; &lt;br /&gt;Brian weren't very big but the ax was so they decided one of them would hold &lt;br /&gt;the "kindling" while the other one wielded the ax.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor Brian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was the poor sap who got to hold the kindling.  As you probably guessed, &lt;br /&gt;Rex took a big ol' swing and cut Brian's finger off!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I remember is we ran to the house and Grandma picked up Brian and wrapped &lt;br /&gt;his finger in her apron and off we went in their old pickup.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had lots of fun like that when I was a kid.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-109401154097353793?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/109401154097353793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=109401154097353793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109401154097353793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109401154097353793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2004/08/dont-axe-me-how-that-happened.html' title='Don&apos;t Axe Me How That Happened...'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-109375849788298828</id><published>2004-08-28T23:48:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-08-28T23:48:17.883-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Roy Rogers Riders Rules</title><content type='html'>I'm 55 years old...I grew up in the 1950's &amp; 60's which was really a great &lt;br /&gt;time to be a kid.  We lived by Roy Rogers Riders Rules...I present them to you &lt;br /&gt;now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Be neat and clean.  [We ALWAYS had to wash our hands before we ate!]&lt;br /&gt;2.  Be courteous and polite. [Lots of 'pleases' &amp; 'thank you's!']&lt;br /&gt;3.  Always obey your parents. [I never disobeyed my parents!!!]&lt;br /&gt;4.  Protect the weak and help them. &lt;br /&gt;5.  Be brave but never take chances. [I was pretty much a scardy-cat anyway.]&lt;br /&gt;6.  Study hard and learn all you can. [Straights A's, baby!!  Well, pretty &lt;br /&gt;much.]&lt;br /&gt;7.  Be kind to animals and take care of them. [We raised our pigs as best we &lt;br /&gt;could!]&lt;br /&gt;8.  Eat all your food and never waste any. [Unh-uh, no way!  The beets went &lt;br /&gt;under the rug when Mom wasn't looking!]&lt;br /&gt;9.  Love God and go to Sunday School regularly. [Amen!]&lt;br /&gt;10. Always respect our flag and our country. [We said the Pledge of &lt;br /&gt;Allegiance every day in school...and even said 'one nation under God."]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Trails To Y'all!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-109375849788298828?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/109375849788298828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=109375849788298828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109375849788298828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109375849788298828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2004/08/roy-rogers-riders-rules.html' title='Roy Rogers Riders Rules'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-109278480853067026</id><published>2004-08-17T17:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-08-17T17:20:08.530-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Flee!  Flee For Your Lives!</title><content type='html'>Okay, here goes, my very first blog story!  I hope you enjoy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you all may or may not know my son Derek loves fire!  I on the other hand &lt;br /&gt;am very afraid of it.  Several years ago when Heather &amp; Derek were little, my &lt;br /&gt;parents were visiting us &amp; Mom &amp; I were cooking dinner in the kitchen.  My &lt;br /&gt;husband Jess and my Dad were in the living room watching TV, letting the &lt;br /&gt;women-folk do the cookin'.  Suddenly, for some unknown reason, the oven CAUGHT ON &lt;br /&gt;FIRE!!   My Mom &amp; I looked at each other, never said a word...we just ran out of &lt;br /&gt;the kitchen, through the living room where the guys were &amp; out the front door!  &lt;br /&gt;Jess &amp; Dad yelled after us, "What the hell are you doing?"  And we just said, &lt;br /&gt;"Oh, yeah, the stove's on fire."  The kids were in their rooms, the guys were &lt;br /&gt;in the living room but dammit, Mom &amp; I were SAFE!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you go.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-109278480853067026?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/109278480853067026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=109278480853067026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109278480853067026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109278480853067026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2004/08/flee-flee-for-your-lives.html' title='Flee!  Flee For Your Lives!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-109238682808382177</id><published>2004-08-13T02:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-08-13T02:47:08.083-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Post EVER!!</title><content type='html'>This is the conversation happening right now:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HEATHER: "So what do you want to write about?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: [whispering]  "I don't know.  I don't have a clue.  My brain is empty!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid I might be a "failure" at "blogging."  I'll try to think of &lt;br /&gt;something but I'm witless.  That is to say, I don't have any witty insights like &lt;br /&gt;Heather said.  She thinks I do...we'll see.  I'll have to write these posts alone &lt;br /&gt;since....well...I'M SMARTER BY MYSELF!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk to you later.  :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-109238682808382177?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/109238682808382177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=109238682808382177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109238682808382177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109238682808382177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2004/08/my-first-post-ever_13.html' title='My First Post EVER!!'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939637.post-109234061082649657</id><published>2004-08-12T13:54:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2004-08-12T13:56:50.826-06:00</updated><title type='text'>In The Beginning</title><content type='html'>This is Heather, Karen's daughter.  Collin, Derek &amp; I decided that Mom needed her own blog so we set this up for her as a surprise.  Hopefully she'll take to it and share some of her funny stories and witty insights with us all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7939637-109234061082649657?l=smarterbymyself.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/feeds/109234061082649657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7939637&amp;postID=109234061082649657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109234061082649657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7939637/posts/default/109234061082649657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://smarterbymyself.blogspot.com/2004/08/in-beginning.html' title='In The Beginning'/><author><name>Karen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06666016317584805080</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
