<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Tue, 13 Oct 2009 00:29:05 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Background Noise</title><description></description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-2320403305027294167</guid><pubDate>Thu, 27 Sep 2007 23:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-09-27T19:46:33.983-04:00</atom:updated><title>USPS</title><description>I just had one of the most aggravating experiences of my life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in 2005, I won an ebay auction and decided to pay with a money order.  A few weeks went by and I didn't receive my item so I checked my account and the seller had posted non-payment complaint on me.  So she never got the money order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I went down to my local friendly post office and was told it's not a problem, cancel the MO and get your money back.  Awesome for me.  So I got my 30$ back and was a happy camper until half an hour ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got a bill from the USPS.  Apparently this woman cashed the MO on September 18th...last week.  2 years later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman at the USPS "customer service" literally laughed at me on the phone.  I copped a huge attitude but it didn't make me feel any better.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe this.  The "service" lady was so rude, kept telling me that I can't cancel money orders and I must have been mistaken.  I guess the friendly smiling man at the counter when I cancelled it wa really a delusional liar, cause he told me it was cancelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I can't contact the seller through ebay because it's been so long, it's not even in their records anymore.  I know they couldn't do anything about it, but I'd love to write that woman a nasty email or two just to let off some steam.  Seriously, who does that?  So now I'm out 30$, never got the product I ordered and I'm angry and have no wine  :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-2320403305027294167?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/09/usps.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-6216409028166543725</guid><pubDate>Sat, 26 May 2007 03:43:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-05-26T00:19:38.911-04:00</atom:updated><title>I miss my Nana</title><description>I graduated two weeks ago tomorrow, and I did it for, and because of, my Nana.  I am her only grandchild to ever get a college degree, and I know I made her proud walking across that stage that day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to her stone yesterday to take pictures.  I wanted to sit and talk to her.  But as I got there and started to bend down, I had this overwhelming feeling, like she was actually talking to me, telling me I didn't need to sit next to no stupid stone to talk to her!  It was her voice and everything!  She was always so direct.  She was never one to watch her words. She would tell you things exactly as they were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She died in a car accident on August 1st, 2005.  Nobody can explain what happened.  The autopsy report is even inconclusive.  My three youngest siblings were in the car when it happened, and they don't know what could have caused it.  One minute they were all laughing and having a good time, and the next minute they careened at 80MPH into a tree on the side of the highway.  M pulled 3 of the kids out of the car.  D was stuck under the dashboard, his seatbelt having been ripped right out of the seat from the force of the impact.  J, my cousin, cried and ran back to the car to try to get D out, but M stopped him, knowing too well that the car could be engulfed in flame at any second.  That girl, at just 10 years old, is smarter and more brave than anyone I have ever met.  Imagine having the foresight to save yourself and 3 younger, injured kids, and knowing that it was too risky to go back and get the others. I get a tickle in my throat just looking at her sometimes, thinking of what must have been going through her head as she weighed the consequences of possibly leaving her brother in a burning car, with the possibility of herself or her other siblings and cousins getting killed in the process of trying to help him.  I can't even imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Nana was 68 that day when she died.  It was the most beautiful morning.  Sunny, hot, and forecast to get hotter.  They were going to the beach.  Nana was great for things like that.  It would always occur to her to just pick up all the kids and go somewhere cool for the day.  Even when I was younger, I remember her picking us up to do something special all the time.  Unannounced.  It could be stupid things like going to super WalMart or helping her plant her garden.  But the fact that it came out of nowhere, and it was just a gift for us being *us* made it so special.  I thank God that the kids' last moments with her were filled with that feeling you get when you truly believe that you're the most amazing kid in the world.  Because that's how she made every kid feel.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nana and the car full of ids left that morning.  I was supposed to be there to wave them off, but got caught up in my own life for a few too many minutes and of course, everyone assumed we would all be together at the end of the day to say hello and talk about the trip to the beach.  I swear, never again will I treat another moment like it will always be there for the taking.  I hate to simplify experiences like this into little gems of wisdom but I truly believe that God wanted me to learn this lesson.  Sure, there were a million other reasons why He called her home that day, but I can't overlook the fact that He wanted to also show me to slow down, take some time to see people, to talk to them and love them.  I think I have forgiven myself for those extra 15 minutes I took that morning, but I will never forget them.  They were so insignificant.  So trivial, and they cost me the chance to tell her one more time how much I loved her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people don't have the relationship with their grandparents that I had with my Nana.  We were truly different from most people.  Even before I was born, she loved me.  She literally saved my life.  I adore my maternal grandparents but when they found out I was coming along, they were determined to stop it.  My Nana hid my mom away, convinced her to keep me and promised to be there to help my mom through everything.  I would have never been here if not for her undying love, and her bravery.  How many people can say that they literally owe their life to someone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I've always taken that seriously.  I am like her little clone.  From the first moment that I can remember, I remember trying to be like her.  Talk like her, think like her, do everything like her.  She was truly my idol.  Even now, when I'm faced with tough situations, I think of what Nana would do.  And then I do it.  I owe it to her, to live on in her footsteps, as she is the one who allowed me to live in the first place.  So many times a week, someone in my family will tell me " You are your Nana's girl!"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had a way with words enough to accurately describe her.  I feel like everyone who never met her has missed out somehow.  She was so honest, so blunt, and refreshing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just knew never to ask Nana for advice unless you REALLY wanted it.  Because she would give it to you.  And it would not be gentle or sugarcoated at all.  She had a way of knowing exactly what the consequences of your actions would be, and had no problem telling you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She never made it through high school.  She worked all her life to provide her kids and grandkids with all the luxuries that she never had.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She watched her 16 year old son (my dad) go from being pronounced dead, to pronounced a vegetable, to walking and fathering children, like no doctor thought he ever would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She hated cats.  Don't know why, just did.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She spoiled all of us relentlessly.  Anything we wanted, and even things we didn't know we wanted yet.  That Christmas season when Furby's were impossible to get, she somehow managed to get me 2.  Just because.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She made you feel like you were the only person in the room.  You could always stop in.  She might be in her housecoat, but there would be coffee, snacks and hours of conversation.  And with her, you could really get into it.  You could swear, cry, bang the table, yell.  Do what you needed to do.  She would join right in with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a strong Christian.  You would never know it outwardly.  She wasn't interested in saving souls or even talking about her beliefs.  But she would pray for you, and for anyone else she met.  She would talk to Jesus and get all her strength from Him.  I wish I had gotten to know her more in that regard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite memory ever of her, is me and her sitting in her swing, singing You Are My Sunshine.  I know that sounds so cliche, but it's the truth.  We did that.  So often.  And I would sit on her lap and ask her if I was too heavy for her.  She promised me over and over that I would never be too heavy for her lap.  And I swear to you, until the day he died, that was the truth.  I sat on that lap more times than I can count.  When I was happy, sad, sick, anything.  It was the most comfortable spot in the world to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I wish that lap could have somehow been there to comfort me when she passed.  I know that it really was, in some Heavenly way, as I never ever in a million years expected the strength that I had through her services.  I did it for the kids.  I had told them so many times about how beautiful Heaven is, and how happy people are to be with God.  How could I then go and cry at her passing?  It would make me a liar.  So I didn't.  And I know it was her that gave me the strength to do that.  But when I got home, when there were no curious eyes waiting for my next move, I was a wreck.  I stood on my porch and screamed at God.  I screamed at her.  How could she leave us like that??!!  How dare she just go, and leave us by ourselves, with no other family to love us like she did! It took a long time to get over than anger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not angry anymore.  I'm thankful that I'm finally in a place where I truly and utterly believe that she is with the Lord, sitting with Jesus, and loving every minute of it.  I am thankful that I had such a great relationship with her that others can see her living on in me.  I am thankful that I have the chance to pass on all her wisdom and beauty to the younger kids, who never knew her like I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss her so much lately, just thinking about the milestones that I will hit without her here.  Graduation day was difficult, to say the least.  How will I handle my wedding day, when I marry the man that she loved more than I did at first sight?  How will I handle having children? Buying my first house?  Getting a Master's degree?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, really.  The night before graduation, I let my mom see my cry over this for the first time ever.  I wish she could have been there.  I would have given every last thing that I own to have had her back for those few minutes while I made the greatest accomplishment of my life thus far.  I would have uninvited everyone else, just so that she could have been there.  Anything, anything at all I would have done just to see her smiling face there next to the stage.&lt;br /&gt;I have to stop, crying on a keyboard can't be good for the circuitry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I miss her.  The world has some big shoes to fill.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-6216409028166543725?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/05/i-miss-my-nana.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-497133039439211007</guid><pubDate>Mon, 21 May 2007 19:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-05-21T15:11:11.244-04:00</atom:updated><title>Last night's post</title><description>I forgot to finish off the title of last night's post, and bring the post to somewhat of a coherent close.  I was typing it in bed and typing on my phone makes my fingers hurt so I guess I was in a rush.  It was meant to end with the fact that it's people like that woman who make people like me hate an otherwise pleasant job.  She really made me question if it is worth staying on for a few extra bucks a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I'm going to a little cookout with the guys.  And SJ ladies know the story about this racist girl and her crap.  Supposedly she won't be there, but I have a feeling those plans will change.  So I have to decide whether to be on my best behavior and ignore her crap, or if I should set a tolerance limit and then give her a piece of my mind at that point.  I know it will cause stress in my friendships but I'm really starting to question the hearts of friends who don't stick up for me in something this serious.  And I'm questioning Brent too, because he hasn't actively put his foot down with her or anyone else in my defense.  I'm just trying to see it as Brent letting me fight my own battles since technically I haven't straight out asked him to step in yet.  Maybe I should.  Plus, he likes to avoid conflict whenever possible.  Meaning All.  The.  Time.  I've never seen him stick up for anything if it could potentially cause a conflict.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see how this goes.  I think I'll set a limit and be prepared to leave gracefully when that limit is reached.  With or without Brent.  If he won't step up and support me, then he can find his own ride home and deal with the guilt of adding to my already feeling bad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-497133039439211007?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/05/last-nights-post.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-8386329296620050055</guid><pubDate>Mon, 21 May 2007 05:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-05-21T01:55:49.565-04:00</atom:updated><title>People like you...</title><description>I am officially in my last week of CVS. Today I was sitting in the office contemplating staying on for one night a week as well as occasional Sundays. You know, don't burn bridges and all that. I had just decided that I have so many good friends and so many great experiences that it would be worth doing. When in walks the customer from hell. This will be my first customer complaint in two years. I can't say that I don't deserve it either. She started by slamming an item on the counter for a return. Fine I can deal with that, I do I every day. But then she says, with a horrible attitude, that she wants her out of star sales tax refunded because she paid it and she wants it in cash. Before I could even say anthing she told me not to even try because she has worked for CVs and she knows I can do it. Well I can't. It's not possible to do in the registers. She completely flipped, telling me I need to learn how to deal with customers blah blah. At this point I have a line so I opened my drawer and have her the stupid 98 cents. Then refunded her in cash for a purchase she made on a card. Whatever. She got what she wanted so I thought she would leave. But instead she wanted my name, manager's name and phone number. Guess giving her what she wanted even though it's against company policy wasn't good enough for her. Oh and to top it off she went over to another cashier and started bad mouthing me. I really think she was disturbed. The only comfort I he is thinking that she got thus way from her previous years at CVS, dealing with people like herself. I'm sure my manager will shrug it off as I usually get a few email or phone call compliments a month and I've never gotten a complaint. But it still makes me mad that thee are people in this world with such entitlement issues and such nastiness in them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-8386329296620050055?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/05/people-like-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-1961675545882023602</guid><pubDate>Sun, 20 May 2007 01:54:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-05-19T22:02:50.828-04:00</atom:updated><title>New Job! Graduation!</title><description>Last week was just a whirlwind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a job interview on Friday.  Graduated from college on Saturday.  Had a second interview this past Thursday.  Today, I slept until 2 pm.  I needed that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first interview went very, very well.  So well, in fact, that the interviewer told me to give my current job my two week's notice.  So my last day there is the 28th.  She scheduled me for a second interview on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, when I got out of church on Friday night, there was a voicemail from the director of the company, canceling my second interview.  Turns out she wanted to interview me personally.  Yikes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She wanted to offer me a much better position.  However, the drive was way too much for me, and the pay not enough.  I ended up acing that interview, but turning down the better position.  Financially, it didn't make sense right now.  I wouldn't be making enough money to relocate closer to the job, and gas prices would have killed my take-home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I will be making less money, but working much closer to home.  And doing a job that I think I will love.  I'm so excited to start.  And I will be working in the same building as my mom, so I will probably get to see her a lot more often now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No more retail.  No more rude customers.  No more nights, weekends, holidays.  No more stressing over the changeability of a retail week-to-week schedule.  No more worrying about a week with no hours and no money.  No more having to stress over being scheduled on Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.  My family might actually *see* me on holidays!  And I will have health insurance....oh, sweet, sweet health insurance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved my coworkers, and will miss them dearly, but there are some things about retail that I would never wish upon my worst enemy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so many other thoughts, but not enough energy to concentrate them into a post right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-1961675545882023602?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/05/new-job-graduation.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-5526136639406122708</guid><pubDate>Fri, 11 May 2007 05:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-05-11T01:31:42.271-04:00</atom:updated><title>When you think Tim McGraw....</title><description>I joined in on a prayer group today; an opportunity for seniors to reflect prayerfully on the past four years.  We were asked to create a time-line of our years at college.  And then we put tissue paper over those time-lines, and wrote in between the dates how God was or wasn't present at that point in our lives.  Where was He?  What did He do?  What did He not do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized, after I did that exercise, that God was most present in my life in the years when I didn't think He existed.  I look back now and I see those years as a series of gifts, blessings....God was present in the people that I was blessed to meet and fall in LOVE with.  At the time I was living it, God was absent.  I was a devout Athiest.  Now, I have no idea how I could ever have overlooked all that I was given.  How could I have ignored the blatant displays of unconditional love from God, ever-present in the people that He surrounded me with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I put my love story on the time-line too.  I have a love story.  I always kept it a secret.  From everyone.  Nobody would really understand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see movies, and you imagine that floating feeling that you would have if that were you.  I had that.  You see lovers sipping wine on the hood of a car in a field at night and think that doesn't really happen.  It happened to me.  You watch two people intertwine to the point of being inseperable in the span of weeks and think that's unrealistic.  That was my reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But until today I discounted it as a dream, a teenager's longing, hormones, whatever.  I thought about him tonight, and I pray that when he hears a Tim McGraw song, he gets the same goosebumps that I do.  I pray that driving by a pasture of horses in Texas reminds him of the nights we spent trying to feed the horses in Arlington. I pray that when he eats peaches, he remembers how I wanted to move away to Kansas, no forwarding address.  I hope that he gets the knot in his stomach when he rives by my house, that I get when I drive by his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, I'm not in live with him.  I probably never was.  Brent is a gift straight from God himself.  But my love story was a lesson from God, a painful reminder of the fleeting nature of passion and lust.  And he was an example of how God is present in things that are painful, unpretty, hurtful, and sometimes even vile.  I was probably never in love with him.  But I LOVED him.  The idea of him.  The enigma.  And now I'm rambling.  But honestly, have you ever ridden in a convertible from MA to Canada, and turned around to go home after you saw the border?  On a whim?  Have you ever honestly, truthfully, danced in the rain?  Been picked up and spun around while kissing, dancing in puddles?  No, that was not love.  That was not being in love.  That was being in fantasy.  But I loved him.  I think I still love him.  Somewhere in me.  When I hear Tim McGraw songs and long for the man who really feels what those lyrics say.  When I sit on my balcony at 5 am with my coffee and wonder who else appreciates the beauty of feeling the dew evaporate.  When I drive back home, top down, rims spinning, thinking how amazing it is just to be here, right here in this moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know I'm rambling.  But I can't get him out of my head right now.  I need to know that he's okay, that his life has turned out the way he wanted it to when he signed those dotted lines.  My dad has spoken to him since he left, but I haven't.  I can't.  I can't ever talk to him without going back to Dudley road, learning how to drive at night.  Or to the Hess, counting pennies for gas to get us to a friend's house, who would lend us money for more gas.  Or to the Hajjar parking lot, debating the fate of the apocalyptic battle between Batman and Superman.  While skunks take refuge under the Cougar and I cry because I don't want to smell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can never speak to him again without wondering what goes on in his heart when he hears Tim McGraw.  Does he remember teaching me how to climb trees?  Does he think about that time when we spied on the new development, dreaming about the day when one of us would own one of those fancy houses?  Does he remember that he gave me his class ring?  With his initials....PMM? Does he ever think about that time he yelled at me for chewing my sleeves?  I'll never forget that, and I'll never chew my sleeves again.  Does he remember the notebook we passed to each other in the hallway, so nobody would know?  How many times has he relived that time in the grocery store parking lot, where we sped away, rubber burning, so nobody would see us together?  We were the perfect mismatched pair.  The disaster waiting to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thank God every day that he left the way he did.  I thank God that my teen-aged self could let him go, and know where to go when he was gone.  But I wonder every night where he is, what he's doing.  And if I'm on his mind the way he's on mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If people knew how love stories really  ended, I don't think they'd sell as well.   I hope he thinks of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-5526136639406122708?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/05/when-you-think-tim-mcgraw.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-4889999743461292594</guid><pubDate>Tue, 01 May 2007 02:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-04-30T22:31:30.039-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__pmoXcBeOU4/RjajeGykBVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TELO1WBde4E/s1600-h/IMG_1679.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__pmoXcBeOU4/RjajeGykBVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TELO1WBde4E/s320/IMG_1679.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059410969011422546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a beautiful day.  It rained the whole morning, so when the sun came out and it hit 70 degrees, everything had that nice, clean spring smell.  And the campus groundskeepers were working, so there was the smell of mulch and grass clippings and I was just ecstatic to be outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I presented my thesis today, which means I am officially done.  No more.  The presentation went amazingly well.  I managed to speak for a little over an hour, and answered half an hour of questions.  And I was told that it really sounded like I owned the information, like I knew it well.  And my advisor complimented me on my use of powerpoint, which I was very proud of.  I hate when people make powerpoint presentations and then proceed to just read through all of the slides for the entire presentation.  It's mind numbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the picture of the car.  A good friend of mine just bought this brand new Buick, and he's very proud of it.  He's been asking me to take some pictures of it so he can show it off on his MySpace.  But every time he has been here it's been dark out, so we couldn't do it.  Today he actually came over early, and I left the library before dark in celebration of finishing my thesis.  So we went up to the park and took some pictures.  I think a lot of the&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__pmoXcBeOU4/RjalYGykBWI/AAAAAAAAAAU/HBqSq9cj3n0/s1600-h/IMG_1685.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__pmoXcBeOU4/RjalYGykBWI/AAAAAAAAAAU/HBqSq9cj3n0/s320/IMG_1685.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059413064955463010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;m came out very nice.  Needless to say, they're definitely not great.  But they're nice.  And they're practice.  Which I desperately need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did a little bit of editing in Picasa, mostly cropping and playing with the effects that Picasa has.  That was fun.  I even got brave and took out my tripod.  Why is that brave?  I'm scared to attract attention while I'm taking pic&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__pmoXcBeOU4/RjamCWykBXI/AAAAAAAAAAc/jfYMvngxf88/s1600-h/IMG_1703.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/__pmoXcBeOU4/RjamCWykBXI/AAAAAAAAAAc/jfYMvngxf88/s320/IMG_1703.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059413790804936050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;tures.  These were done in a public park, so that was big for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this last one, we obviously had to take a corny picture of him getting into the car.  And he wanted his "beefy arm" to be in the picture too!  So that's why he look so uncomfortable and awkward.  But he had fun with it.  I love the film grain effect in Picasa.  I don't know why.  We pay so much money so we can have cameras that take nice, smooth pictures and then I go to the trouble to make some look like crap on purpose.  Some things I will never understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-4889999743461292594?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/04/today-was-beautiful-day.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__pmoXcBeOU4/RjajeGykBVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/TELO1WBde4E/s72-c/IMG_1679.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-1243885092587288576</guid><pubDate>Sun, 29 Apr 2007 00:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-04-30T22:33:58.476-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>I am so sick.  Couldn't even make dinner tonight.  I'm coming down with a chest cold, and I can feel my sinuses flaring up and getting angry.  I hope this doesn't last through my thesis presentation.  I would hate to be sniffly and stuffed up while trying to make an hour long presentation that amounts to my entire college career.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-1243885092587288576?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-am-so-sick.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-6329259446055070378</guid><pubDate>Fri, 30 Mar 2007 03:23:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-03-29T23:26:54.565-04:00</atom:updated><title>Trouble on Blackberry</title><description>One of the reasons that I was so excited about getting my BlackBerry was the ease of updating my blogs right on the spot.  It seems that won't be the case for a little while though.  I can update my LiveJournal without a problem, but m BlackBerry always shows an error when I try to update.  With the BB browser, it says that I entered the wrong validation code.  After I downloaded OperaMini, I thought it would work.  But now it just times out when I try to log in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I will have to keep trying other things, reading forums until I find a fix for this so I can update on the road.  It would be so much fun to be able to keep up with everyone's blog from anywhere.  At least I can jazz from anywhere without a problem, so it's not the end of the world!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-6329259446055070378?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/03/trouble-on-blackberry.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-7302159971371610799</guid><pubDate>Sun, 25 Mar 2007 22:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-03-25T18:18:09.638-04:00</atom:updated><title>PaperbackSwap.com</title><description>I joined this site a while ago but I just got around to adding my books to be sent out. If you're a reader, I recommend this site.  It's a book exchange site.  It's free to join, you only pay shipping for the books that others request from you.  But for each book you send out, you get a credit to get a book shipped to you from someone else!  I just listed 20 books and I have 3 free credits to begin with, and there are 5 people in line to request books that I have, so if those all go through then I will have 8 new books soon!  Of course, after I read them I can re-list them to send out and get another 8 books if someone wants them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this is something you'd want to join, please comment and I'll leave my referral link for you!  &lt;a href="http://paperbackswap.com"&gt;paperbackswap.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-7302159971371610799?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/03/paperbackswapcom.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-8861129739620441335</guid><pubDate>Sun, 25 Mar 2007 00:58:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-03-24T21:04:59.926-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>Saw this list on &lt;a href="http://jsvh.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jennifer H's Blog&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I have done are in bold!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Bought everyone in the bar a drink&lt;br /&gt;2. Swam with dolphins&lt;br /&gt;3. Climbed a mountain&lt;br /&gt;4. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive&lt;br /&gt;5. Been inside the Great Pyramid&lt;br /&gt;6. Held a tarantula&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;7. Taken a candlelit bath with someone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;8. Said “I love you” and meant it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;9. Hugged a tree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Bungee jumped&lt;br /&gt;11. Visited Paris&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12. Watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Seen the Northern Lights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;15. Gone to a huge sports game&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables&lt;br /&gt;18. Touched an iceberg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;19. Slept under the stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;20. Changed a baby’s diaper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;22. Watched a meteor shower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;23. Gotten drunk on champagne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;24. Given more than you can afford to charity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Had a food fight&lt;br /&gt;28. Bet on a winning horse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;29. Asked out a stranger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;30. Had a snowball fight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Held a lamb&lt;br /&gt;33. Seen a total eclipse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;34. Ridden a roller coaster&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Hit a home run&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Adopted an accent for an entire day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Had two hard drives for your computer and a 300 gig external!&lt;br /&gt;40. Visited all 50 states&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;41. Taken care of someone who was drunk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;42. Had amazing friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Watched wild whales&lt;br /&gt;45. Stolen a sign&lt;br /&gt;46. Backpacked in Europe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;47. Taken a road-trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. Gone rock climbing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;49. Midnight walk on the beach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Gone sky diving&lt;br /&gt;51. Visited Ireland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them&lt;br /&gt;54. Visited Japan&lt;br /&gt;55. Milked a cow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;56. Alphabetized your CDs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57. Pretended to be a superhero&lt;br /&gt;58. Sung karaoke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;59. Lounged around in bed all day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60. Posed nude in front of strangers&lt;br /&gt;61. Gone scuba diving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;62. Kissed in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;63. Played in the mud&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;64. Played in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Gone to a drive-in theater&lt;br /&gt;66. Visited the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;67. Started a business&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;68. Fallen in love!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;69. Toured ancient sites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;70. Taken a martial arts class&lt;br /&gt;71. Played D&amp;D for more than 6 hours straight&lt;br /&gt;72. Gotten married&lt;br /&gt;73. Been in a movie&lt;br /&gt;74. Crashed a party&lt;br /&gt;75. Gotten divorced&lt;br /&gt;76. Gone without food for 5 days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;77. Made cookies from scratch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;78. Won first prize in a costume contest&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;79. Ridden a gondola in Venice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80. Gotten a tattoo&lt;br /&gt;81. Rafted the Snake River&lt;br /&gt;82. Been on television news programs as an expert&lt;br /&gt;83. Got flowers for no reason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;84. Performed on stage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. Been to Las Vegas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;86. Recorded music&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;87. Eaten shark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;88. Eaten fugu (pufferfish)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;89. Had a one-night stand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;90. Gone to Thailand&lt;br /&gt;91. Bought a house&lt;br /&gt;92. Been in a combat zone&lt;br /&gt;93. Buried one/both of your parents&lt;br /&gt;94. Been on a cruise ship&lt;br /&gt;95. Spoken more than one language fluently&lt;br /&gt;96. Performed in Rocky Horror Picture Show&lt;br /&gt;97. Raised children&lt;br /&gt;98. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour&lt;br /&gt;99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;103. Had plastic surgery&lt;br /&gt;104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;105. Wrote articles for a large publication&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;106. Lost over 100 pounds (45.5 kilograms)&lt;br /&gt;107. Held someone while they were having a flashback&lt;br /&gt;108. Piloted an airplane&lt;br /&gt;109. Swam with a stingray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;110. Broken someone’s heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;111. Ridden a bike&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;112. Won money on a T.V. game show&lt;br /&gt;113. Broken a bone&lt;br /&gt;114. Gone on an African safari&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;115. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;118. Ridden a horse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;119. Had surgery&lt;br /&gt;120. Had a snake as a pet&lt;br /&gt;121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states&lt;br /&gt;124. Visited all 7 continents&lt;br /&gt;125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days&lt;br /&gt;126. Eaten kangaroo meat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;127. Eaten sushi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;128. Had your picture in the newspaper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;130. Gone back to school&lt;br /&gt;131. Parasailed&lt;br /&gt;132. Touched a cockroach&lt;br /&gt;133. Eaten fried green tomatoes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;134. Read The Iliad and The Odyssey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;135. Selected one important author who you missed in school, and read&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;br /&gt;137. Skipped all your school reunions&lt;br /&gt;138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language&lt;br /&gt;139. Been elected to public office&lt;br /&gt;140. Written your own computer language&lt;br /&gt;141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream&lt;br /&gt;142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care&lt;br /&gt;143. Built your own PC from parts&lt;br /&gt;144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you&lt;br /&gt;145. Had a booth at a street fair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;146. Dyed your hair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;147. Been a DJ&lt;br /&gt;148. Shaved your head&lt;br /&gt;149. Caused a car accident&lt;br /&gt;150. Saved someone’s life&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-8861129739620441335?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/03/saw-this-list-on-jennifer-hs-blog.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-3213179592027696505</guid><pubDate>Thu, 22 Mar 2007 05:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-03-22T20:10:00.780-04:00</atom:updated><title>so ive been really bad about updating everything</title><description>Ice been worse at this blog than my other one. But ive sort of made it a goal to keep this updated more often now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-3213179592027696505?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2007/03/so-ive-been-really-bad-about-updating.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115379649095273850</guid><pubDate>Tue, 25 Jul 2006 02:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-24T23:01:31.343-04:00</atom:updated><title>Taken advantage of...naturally.</title><description>Sorry for the long rant, everyone.  But it's almost 11 pm, and I'm at my wits end.  Ready to cry.   I feel so torn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got the promotion at work. And I still want it, I'm still excitied.  But only because I know that I can do awesome things for the store, and make it more fun for the younger kids to work there.  I want to do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I feel like the manager, my boss, is taking advantage of me already.  When we discussed this promotion, we talked at length about my schedule.  I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;volunteered&lt;/span&gt; one night a week.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One.&lt;/span&gt;  She literally giggled, she was so excited.  She wasn't even expecting me to do one.  So I got brownie points.  And she assured me that, if I closed one night, she wouldn't schedule me to open the next day.  Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I look at my schedule this week and lo and behold....she schedules me 2 nights.  AND I'm opening the day after BOTH nights!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here's my week.  I worked tonight til 10:30, I open tomorrow at 6:30 am.  School tomorrow night until 10:00.  Repeat.  So I literally only have 8 hours between shifts for the rest of the week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I know, I probably shouldn't bitch too much, but this is exactly what she said she wouldn't do to me.  Plus, I'm in college.  I'm supposed to be having fun.  i &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still&lt;/span&gt; haven't gone out and celebrated my birthday with friends, because of work and school.  My entire life is far too serious.  I have nothing at all to look forward to for weekends, school vacations....I'm just not like everyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I'm being taken advantage of already.  I have no idea what to do.  I'm on the verge of crying right now, out of sheer frustration.  How do you handle something like this?  Especially with a boss who I love....she's so sweet, so nice, and she really does treat each of us with respect and she tries to make our jobs fun.  But I don't think she understands that I want this to be a part time job...not my life.  I have Brent to take care of, school to focus on, and a childhood that is slipping away before my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WWYD?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115379649095273850?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/taken-advantage-ofnaturally.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115310218410702245</guid><pubDate>Mon, 17 Jul 2006 02:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-16T22:09:44.286-04:00</atom:updated><title>Testing this...</title><description>YES!  I can put a title on my posts now!  God, I hate Blogger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115310218410702245?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/testing-this.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115310145624350322</guid><pubDate>Mon, 17 Jul 2006 01:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-16T21:57:36.433-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>Ahh, the joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made my first legal alcohol purchase this evening.  Get this....it was at....Wal Mart.  Yes, I really am that lame.  I have yet to go to a bar or restaraunt.  Instead I buy a 6 pack at Wally World.  And here's the most fantastic part.  Me and Brent were at the register buying, and the cashier asks for ID.  Knowing the law fully well, we both hand her our ID's.  She waves mine off, but takes Brent's.  He's 25 and looks older...I look 16.  So I have yet to be carded.  So I don't know how waiters/bartenders will react to my "Under 21" license from MA.  Even though it says "Under 21 until July 10, 2006", I'm sure someone will give me gruff for it.  But apparently we'll have to wait and see for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news I am officially an 8.5x11 scrapper. I am in love with that size.  I finished 3 LO's in one night, and I'm itching to do more tomorrow instead of housework.  I even used bunches of chipboard and ribbon and buttons on the LO's, which I usually don't do.  It was a nice change of routine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully going to N. Nashua on Tuesday for a free crop.  Have already posted on SJ about it for every Tuesday this summer.  So if any MA or NH Jazzers are reading PM ME!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115310145624350322?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/ahh-joy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115231923157510900</guid><pubDate>Sat, 08 Jul 2006 00:31:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-07T20:40:31.920-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>I got it!  Woo hoo!  There was nothing to it at all.  The manager took me aside, asked if I was serious about wanting the job, and told me to grab a notebook and start taking notes for training LoL.  It's going to be so exciting!  I think I'll make a good manager.  I hope I'll be the person that the high school employees will want to work for.  I have one supervisor like that, and working for him is a pleasure.  I think I will just model myself after him, and make people feel very appreciated for the hard work they do.  I think that's the main ingredient that's missing from supervisors/managers that people don't like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115231923157510900?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-got-it-woo-hoo-there-was-nothing-to.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115223628340611803</guid><pubDate>Fri, 07 Jul 2006 01:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-06T21:38:03.726-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>I don't know if today could have gotten any worse.  It was just so....so blah!  And I hated it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exfept for this little part:  My boss was putting up a sign today that said Now Hiring: Shift Supervisor.  I told her I could do it, just gie me the manager code!  And I was kind of joking around, kind of being a bitch cause I really should be supervisor before they hire anyone from the outside.  Well, the other manager says I should apply, and then the big big manager says she wants to talk to me tomorrow morning, first thing.   And there's a supervisor at work who has been teasing me for a few weeks saying I'm the next supervisor, and he's going to train me himself so it'll be like torture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have this weird feeling that I was being considered for the job beforehand, but for some reason nobody had approached me.  Maybe they thought I wouldn't be interested?  Well, I sort of am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It will mean taking on more hours, on top of school and a non-existant social life.  BUT it will be more freedom in the store, more respect, more money, and much better experience for later jobs.  I'll have managerial experience.  That's HUGE when applying for jobs later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that's what the big manager wanted to talk to me about.  I really do.  I'm going to pray on it tonight and see where tomorrow brings me.  I could use some prayers from everyone else too.  Getting a raise right now would make my entire life a little more secure.  Thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115223628340611803?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-dont-know-if-today-could-have-gotten.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115207006161591469</guid><pubDate>Wed, 05 Jul 2006 03:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-16T22:03:31.903-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>Okay ScrapJazzers, be gentle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially since I have no idea how to use this silly Blogger, I can't seem to make it format the way I want to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, I'm tired.  So I have an excuse.  :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/1600/duke.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/320/duke.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think these two pictures of Duke are my favorites.He has the cutest expressions, and the bench he's sitting on makes an awesome background.  He was such a ham!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/1600/duke1.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/320/duke1.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at this silly face!  I got tons of shots of him sleeping upside down, with h&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/1600/duke3.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/320/duke3.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;is paws straight in the air, but they didn't come out this nice.  So I'll save them for a rainy day. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay so I &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/1600/duke4.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/320/duke4.2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;couldn't resist putting just one of his sleeping pics.  Just don't tell him lol.  See the smile??!!  It's like his life just can't get any better than this!  About an hour after these pictures were taken, Duke was found waist-deep inside a 50 pound bag of dog food.  Tell me he isn't the coolest cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/1600/derek.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/320/derek.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's my little brother, attempting to run away from me.  He was sick of my snapping away within a few seconds.  But he ended up being a pretty good sport.  He grabbed my camera and started snapping shots of me.  They came out pretty good!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/1600/derek2.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2261/368/320/derek2.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See?  We have another budding photographer.  He's such a cutie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I did have a ton more to post, but it's almost midnight and I must get to bed.  back to work after a 4 day weekend.  Ugh.  :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115207006161591469?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/okay-scrapjazzers-be-gentle.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115203050758241183</guid><pubDate>Tue, 04 Jul 2006 16:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-04T12:28:28.476-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>I'm on my way to fireworks, free food, lots of pictures, and a water baloon fight.  And yet all I want to do is sit in my room and scrap!!! Argh!  Why why why, when I have no time, that's when the urge is greatest!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and yesterday I went to Hampton Beach.  I have a sunburn, sand in my hair, I smell like dead fish,  but I got a million beautiful pics.  And a 50$ ticket.  Oops.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115203050758241183?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/im-on-my-way-to-fireworks-free-food.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115189221158606620</guid><pubDate>Mon, 03 Jul 2006 02:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-02T22:03:47.626-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>Got GIMP??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do.  If I happen to get lots of free time this summer, I see nothing but bad, bad things happening lol.  Downloaded some free 2peas kits.  Learned layers basics.  Uh oh.  This might not be a good thing lol.  If only BG made digi papers....ahhh, life would be good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I'm pretty sure I scored the sweetest deal ever today.  Got an 8x8 Colorbok album with a cs/pp/punchout pack for 7$.  Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't those coordinated punchout packs typically 9-10$??  Yeah, I think they are.  So, I bought 2.  Naturally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm off to learn opacity.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115189221158606620?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/got-gimp-i-do.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115177148088641486</guid><pubDate>Sat, 01 Jul 2006 16:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-07-01T12:31:27.153-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>This morning is so awkward!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed up until 3 am crying because Brent is a complete ass.  Complete.  Now I have to sit in the same house as him without throwing things at him.  Totally weird.  And, in typical fashion, he is acting like somehow I'm at fault?  Okee dokee then.  I swear he PMSes half the month. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, there he goes, totally slamming the drawers, and he definitely just threw a loaf of bread?  Yeah, because that's manly and solves problems. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are all men this ridiculous?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115177148088641486?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/07/this-morning-is-so-awkward-i-stayed-up.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115116126672775803</guid><pubDate>Sat, 24 Jun 2006 14:59:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-24T11:01:15.753-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>AC Moore has 8.5x11 cardstock on sale for 6 cents a sheet.  Regularly 20 cents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't need more.  I don't need more.  I don't, I don't, I don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I can't help but think of all the different shades of every color that I don't have.  They carry 100 different colors.  There's no way I have them all.  And at 6 cents a sheet, I can afford to have them all, right?  If I buy one sheet of every colorm that's....6$.  I can afford 12 or 18$, right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am SUCH a paper junkie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115116126672775803?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/06/ac-moore-has-8.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115103073389831243</guid><pubDate>Fri, 23 Jun 2006 02:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-22T22:45:34.286-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>All of a sudden I am afraid of lurkers and stalkers.  So, if you are a creepy lurker or a stalker, I must kindly ask you to leave now.  Thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115103073389831243?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/06/all-of-sudden-i-am-afraid-of-lurkers.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115058684556747315</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Jun 2006 23:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-17T19:27:30.093-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>I have been on a creating spree, and I think I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Wednesday, I had a few hours between work and school, so I made a gift album for a co-worker's retirement.  8x8, 20 pages , in under 4 hours.  And I must say, each page was uniquely designed, and very pretty.  I was proud of it.  I wish I had taken pictures of it to keep, but there wasn't enough time.  I had to bring it to work to have everyone sign that afternoon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've also started my own version of the "She" albums that everyone is crazy about.  I'm not familiar with the "official" way of doing it, but I do know that it's an album based on "She..." statements.  So I'm making my own, and it will be a tribute to all the amazing women in my life who remind me how awesome life is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't seem to get away from my scrap desk today, and I love love love it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did have to get away long enough to let NTB rape my wallet.  Yes, I said rape my wallet.  I just paid 320$ for front brakes on my car.  But they were desperately needed.  As in, I was driving a car that almost wouldn't stop for red lights.  Never mind an emergency situation.  So I'm glad it's done, I'll just be feeling the financial effects for a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of financial, talked to Brent today about my birthday present.  I put a deal out on the table.  I will save portionf of my paycheck for the next few weeks and save up a nice chunk of $$$.  I will take the tattoo money that my roomate was going to give me and add it to my saved money.  And then, he and anyone else who is interested will chip in the rest....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;AND I WILL HAVE MY REBEL!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Oh I can't wait.  It's only fair that I get a nice big present for myself.  He got his 42'' monster TV and an XBos360.  The XBox was admittedly a gift from me, but it still counts.  He got his two expensive purchases, I think it's my turn.  And if I save up slowly rather than put it on my credit card, it won't hurt the wallet nearly as much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now.  I'm off to my desk again for a bit, at least until 9 when I get to lurk around in the crazy SJ chat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115058684556747315?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-have-been-on-creating-spree-and-i.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6635029.post-115055416058190034</guid><pubDate>Sat, 17 Jun 2006 14:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-06-17T10:22:44.713-04:00</atom:updated><title></title><description>I am....amazing myself lately&lt;br /&gt;I want...to celebrate something&lt;br /&gt;I have...a cup of coffee and a morning bagel&lt;br /&gt;I wish...for more kisses&lt;br /&gt;I hate...next week's work schedule&lt;br /&gt;I miss....someone I can never admit to missing&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6635029-115055416058190034?l=ladyrainne.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://ladyrainne.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-am.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Sabrina)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>