<?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-2884994210384499917</id><updated>2012-02-01T14:03:23.517-06:00</updated><category term='religion; Christmas'/><category term='family'/><title type='text'>Not Your Typical Soccer Mom</title><subtitle type='html'>I am a mother of 3, wife of 1 and spend, on average, 5 waking hours at home a week. My kids are involved in everything, and my husband and I do our best to keep up with them</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>48</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-2534146069176136302</id><published>2009-03-26T15:15:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T15:19:47.138-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Youth Legislature</title><content type='html'>My son has been chosen to be in Youth Legislature this year. Actually, we've known about it for awhile since we had to pay $50 for him to do it. But in super excited news, he drafted a bill for his school and they sent it off to the Youth Leg people in charge, and his bill is one that they are going to vote on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Youth Leg sounds really neat. They elect a governor, a speaker of the house and something else. All the other kids are senators and house of representative members. They are assigned to certain Departments and they get to present their bills and their arguments for it and then it's voted on. It's a 2 day event at the Old State Capitol and it sounds like tons of fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His bill: The state should allow kids to have 3 full months of summer vacation. His points: it will save money on the schools not to operate the air conditioners in the middle of summer; it will give the kids more rest and able to do summer sports and still have time for a real vacation before school starts; and something else that I forget. Now he is researching his bill to find out facts to support it. And I must say, I haven't helped him a lick. He's come up with this and is doing it all on his own. I'm pretty impressed with the amount of effort he's putting into it too...especially since it's not sports oriented!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-2534146069176136302?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/2534146069176136302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=2534146069176136302' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/2534146069176136302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/2534146069176136302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/03/youth-legislature.html' title='Youth Legislature'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-4771190217430874638</id><published>2009-02-04T12:30:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T12:35:13.406-06:00</updated><title type='text'>It might be cancer.....but it might not be</title><content type='html'>My dad had the lymph node in his neck removed this morning. Dr. Mathews suspects that it is cancer, but doesn't want us to jump to any conclusions, because it might not be. But he couldn't offer anything else that he thought it was. We should get Pathology reports back by Monday to know for sure, and then the process begins by seeing how bad it is, what kind it is, and a treatment option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People beat cancer everyday. It might NOT be cancer, but most likely it is. But people live from cancer, they don't die unless you catch it late. And he's been mostly healthy so I can't believe that it's a late catch. And his blood work was fine. If it was bad it seems that his blood work would have shown something, like a high or low white cell count, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom is falling to pieces. There is nothing I can say to make it better. She lost her mother and her father to cancer. Her and my dad will have been married for 33 years on April 22nd. And she's falling to pieces. I can't fall to pieces in front of her. I have to put on a brave face. But, even knowing that people beat cancer everyday, and it might NOT be cancer, I'm still falling to pieces. He is my daddy. He has always been there for me. Through all the stupid decision, and all the stupid mistakes, he was always there. He may not have been there happily, but he was there. And now he might have cancer. And I'm falling to pieces.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-4771190217430874638?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/4771190217430874638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=4771190217430874638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4771190217430874638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4771190217430874638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/02/it-might-be-cancerbut-it-might-not-be.html' title='It might be cancer.....but it might not be'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-3270572943713055227</id><published>2009-01-27T07:48:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T07:59:28.293-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My father</title><content type='html'>My parents aren't old. They are merely in their 50's. And, hey, since I turned 30...well, 50 ain't old anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my mom forced my dad to go to the doctor and do all kinds of tests that you need to do when you're 50. He did blood work, stress test, ultrasound of his legs (because his feet are always cold), etc. Every single test came back ok except the cholesterol test. And he has high blood pressure. But we knew both of those already. Basically, the doc told him that he's just fat and needed to lose some weight and both of things would go away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUT, he also had to do an MRI on his neck. About 3 months ago he jerked his neck pretty badly doing something and shortly after that has had this mass in his neck where he jerked it. Well, while he was at the doc the doc made him do an MRI to figure out what it was. We found out the results of the MRI yesterday...it's a swollen gland. But we don't know WHY it's swollen. And it just so happens that it is the exact same spot that he had melanoma a few years ago. So he is doing the biopsy today to see what it is. Hopefully it's just an infection, or a blood blister, or something silly like that. Hopefully it's not cancer. We're praying that it's not cancer. We'll find out in a couple hours exactly what it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-3270572943713055227?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/3270572943713055227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=3270572943713055227' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3270572943713055227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3270572943713055227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-father.html' title='My father'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-4199211321235298520</id><published>2009-01-26T14:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T15:32:21.335-06:00</updated><title type='text'>100-0</title><content type='html'>I'm conflicted. One of yahoo's top news stories right now is about the Dallas coach that ran up the score of a basketball game to 100-0 a week or so ago. I heard the story the day in passing after it happened and thought he was probably a jerk.  But then I read the Yahoo news story. And now I'm conflicted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to the news story, the girls were shooting 3-pointers in the 4th quarter. And while that may sound horrible to some, 3-pointers are the hardest shots to make. They weren't doing layups (the easy shots) but going for the hard ones. Some of the comments on the news story suggested that the coach should have told the girls to play opposite handed, or miss shots on purpose. That's what I disagree with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come from an athletic background, and my kids are involved in all sorts of sports. Never, ever, not one time would I EVER tell my kids to be less than they can be because someone else wasn't as good as they were. Ever.  And I guess that's where I can somewhat see the coach's point of view. I applaud him for not making his girls "less" because their opponents weren't very good.  And basketball is a different sport than say baseball or football. With baseball you can change positions up drastically and put kids in unfamiliar spots. Same thing with almost with football...although you obviously wouldn't put a 90 pound kid on the offensive line. But in football you could run the ball more. Whereas in basketball, you're kind of stuck. All positions participate in all plays and you have to know what one kid is doing in order to know what you are doing. So everyone on the court knows the basic fundamentals of each position. Especially if you are a good team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after the 100-0 game, the school issued an apology and said that they were a Christian school and the coach shouldn't have done it. The coach emailed the paper shortly thereafter and told them that he would not apologize because his girls had success, and he would never intentionally run up the score. He did what he could to keep the score down while at the same time not compromise the girls' abilities. Therefore, he feels that he has nothing to apologize for. And I agree with that position.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see the argument more if you are playing recreational sports. But when you are in a competitive league, and high school and college and beyond are definitely considered competitive, then it's a whole different ball game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any other aspect of life, I would never tell or allow my kids to be less than their potential. For me, this same rule applies to sports. You may not always win, but you always play to the best of your ability.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-4199211321235298520?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/4199211321235298520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=4199211321235298520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4199211321235298520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4199211321235298520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/100-0.html' title='100-0'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-5609255720692567008</id><published>2009-01-26T10:41:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T10:51:55.943-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheap Bats</title><content type='html'>Lo and behold, Brendan "NEEDS" a new bat. Again. Although I just bought him one about 8 months ago. Why? Because that was a 2008 bat and he NEEDS  a 2009 bat. And, and I 'd never tell him this outloud, he really has outgrown the bat from last year since he grew another 3 or 4 inches since I bought it. And short bats, on tall kids, they really don't work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I found this website. &lt;a href="http://www.cheapbats.com/"&gt;www.cheapbats.com&lt;/a&gt;. Bats are not cheap. Not the 2009 versions anyway. Wait. No. Not the NAME BRAND 2009 versions. More particularly, not THIS 2009 version: &lt;a href="http://www.cheapbats.com/shop/2009-demarini-cf3-baseball-bat-youth-league-dxcfl-11oz-p-1064-c-99_100.html"&gt;http://www.cheapbats.com/shop/2009-demarini-cf3-baseball-bat-youth-league-dxcfl-11oz-p-1064-c-99_100.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But MOM, it's "ON SALE" for ONLY $249!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I made a deal with him. If he could sell his $249 bat that I bought him 8 months ago for at least $125 to one of the smaller kids on the team then I would buy him the new bat....with the help of doing dishes, and laundry, and his homework.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see how that goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-5609255720692567008?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/5609255720692567008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=5609255720692567008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5609255720692567008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5609255720692567008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/cheap-bats.html' title='Cheap Bats'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-2988635467423334485</id><published>2009-01-21T08:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T08:32:03.813-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Inauguration, New President, etc. etc.</title><content type='html'>I've tried to avoid it but I can't. Every news channel, every radio station, every newspaper, every office conversation, every everything is centered around one thing: Our new President is African-American. If I hear the word African-American one more time I'm going to pull my hair out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'm racist. Yes, I'm prejudiced against certain people and certain things, but it has nothing to do with skin color. Hell, some of my own family members fall into that category :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the country as a whole would be more accepting of Obama as President (not that they aren't, just it seems that some people can't get past his skin color) if the doggone media would just STOP referring to him as "African-American." What about his thoughts on foreign policy, or his thoughts of the economy? We don't hear about that much, but he's AFRICAN-AMERICAN and that's all that matters and all we keep being reminded about. I call bullshit on that. I don't care about skin color, so quit throwing that in our faces and tell me what his first plans are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think he tries to get past it alot, he mentions it and then follows with a comment about things he wants to do...but interviewers keep going back and want to harp on his ancestry. And seeing black people on TV talking about how much of a change it's going to be for THEM now that there is a colored man in office just kinda makes me throw up a little. Really? You thought that you had it SO BAD before and all of sudden, just because he's black, you're going to get everything you ever wanted? Trust me when I say I'm not hatin' on the Prez, because I'm not. I just wish we as a country could get past the fact that he's black, or mixed, or whatever, and focus on what he is going to DO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's history making. I get that. But you know what? You aren't going to change some people's mind. And that's true about almost everything. But forcing it down our throats is getting to be a bit much for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-2988635467423334485?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/2988635467423334485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=2988635467423334485' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/2988635467423334485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/2988635467423334485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/inauguration-new-president-etc-etc.html' title='Inauguration, New President, etc. etc.'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-9112033198524698023</id><published>2009-01-19T14:24:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T14:29:42.842-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Schedule</title><content type='html'>I'm creating the post because I'm TERRIBLE with keeping up a calendar so I need something to refer to when I make commitments. Plus, I need people to know that I'm not exaggerating when I say that all I do at home is sleep :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-F: work 7:30 - 4:00...leave home at 6:30 and get home around 5:00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday -&lt;br /&gt;Bren baseball practice 6 - 8 pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday -&lt;br /&gt;Bren religion, 5:30 - 6:30 (last class is Feb. 17)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday -&lt;br /&gt;Des religion, 5:30 - 6:30 (last class is Feb. 18);&lt;br /&gt;Bren practice 6-8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday -&lt;br /&gt;Open&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday -&lt;br /&gt;Bren pitching practice 6-8 pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday -&lt;br /&gt;Bren practice 9 am - 1 pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desi and Nic will start practicing in April and playing ball in May. I have no control over Nicolas' schedule, but by taking the U10 league rep position, I have complete control over Desi's schedule since I'm the one that will make them for all the teams.  Although I don't think I can avoid all conflicts, I am going to try my best!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-9112033198524698023?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/9112033198524698023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=9112033198524698023' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/9112033198524698023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/9112033198524698023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-schedule.html' title='My Schedule'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-5168033494460755093</id><published>2009-01-14T09:17:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T09:24:19.347-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid is as Stupid does</title><content type='html'>Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Cannot say "no" and live my life in ignorant bliss. Stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was approached to be the U-10 softball league rep for AYSA at a coach's meeting the other night. It's bad enough that I was considering coaching, but I figure I'm the only one who can handle my daughter and since I'm not afraid to bench her or make her run laps, I'm up for it. So I run the 10 and under age group now? Ok. More suckage of valuable free time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keith and I are both on the Board for football. We started hard and heavy with that last week. We took a break from it last year to enjoy Brendan's last year with the league, and turned it over with over $13K in the bank. Last year's Board managed to spend all of that, plus an additional $40K, and when we jumped back into it this year we are starting with about $200. Lots of work to do there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we got a call last night and Brendan made the Braves tourney baseball team again. Which means practice 3 days a week and tournaments every weekend starting in March.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please God let me find the time to honor all of these commitments, maintain my full time paying job, take care of my crippled husband and make sure the electricity and water bill is paid. Amen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-5168033494460755093?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/5168033494460755093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=5168033494460755093' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5168033494460755093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5168033494460755093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/stupid-is-as-stupid-does.html' title='Stupid is as Stupid does'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-7842633806457744008</id><published>2009-01-14T08:55:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T09:00:48.438-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Grocery Game</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine turned me on to this website a couple of weeks ago and it has been AWESOME. &lt;a href="http://www.thegrocerygame.com/"&gt;www.thegrocerygame.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard to explain in words how it works, but basically you sign up for the store closest to you (either Winn Dixie or Albertson's in our area in most cases) and you get an email list every week. You start off with Sunday's paper and clip coupons. Then you sign in to the website and get the list of prices on items at your local store. It's color coded also. For instance, blue prices mean it's rock bottom and stock up on this item. Green items mean you can get them for FREE if you have your coupons. It somehow works. I went to the store a couple of weeks ago, spent $75.00 and my cabinet and freezer is full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, it is a "pay for" website. $1 for 4 week trial period, then $10 per 8 weeks after that. Well worth it to me. What I figured doing is getting my Winn Dixie list, going through and marking all the items I need and getting those. Then getting my other items at my normal grocery store or Walmart. I believe this is going to be a good thing. You should check it out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and if you do decide to check it out, when it asks for the reference of the person that sent you there, you can put in my email address: &lt;a href="mailto:kscoleman2@cox.net"&gt;kscoleman2@cox.net&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-7842633806457744008?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/7842633806457744008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=7842633806457744008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7842633806457744008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7842633806457744008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/grocery-game.html' title='The Grocery Game'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-978928211124754133</id><published>2009-01-08T08:21:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T11:51:26.194-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Cousins</title><content type='html'>Keith and I were talking last night about the size of my family. My immediate family is quite small. My dad, my mom, my brother, my sister, me, my husband, my 3 kids and my grandmother. Those are the people that I consider my immediate family. Family gatherings are fun and focused 100% on my kids...it's all about making sure they have fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, my extended family is quite large. There are 31 first cousins (1 is deceased and 1 will be born in May, 3 are not blood and therefore have not been with us since birth, but they are accepted just the same). I know every single one of them by name and can mostly tell you the order they were born. There was a baby boom and I think 4 or 5 of them were born within months of each other and I sometimes get those confused, but I'm pretty close. Me and my first cousins are now having kids. So, that makes those kids my 2nd cousins. And those kids and my kids would be 3rd cousins. That's how it works right? I am close, and my kids will be close, to those 2nd and 3rd cousins. Did I mention that this extended family is all on my mom's side of the family? I have no 1st cousins on my dad's side as me and my siblings were the only kids born on that side (which leads to extra spoiled great-grandkids).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, let me briefly describe Christmas' with my extended family. My mom has 10 brothers and sisters. All are married. So that is 22 adults right there. Then there are the previously mentioned 31 first cousins (minus 2). 6 of us are married, and 2 have their almost husband's attend. Keeping up yet? That makes 59 people right there. Add the third generation of kids and that is 9 more people. 68 people. And counting. Our generation is still having kids and many aren't even married yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So right at this moment I have 68 people in my extended family. I know them all, I love them all, and while closer to some that others, I feel close to each and every one of them. I love my extended family. I love getting together with my extended family. I love being a "grown up" and being able to sit back and laugh at the simplemindedness of some of my aunts and uncles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most of all? Most of all I love the fact that my kids are going to grow up with this 68 and counting extended family and love and be loved by each and every one of them. I love that they are going to be close to their THIRD COUSINS, and possibly their fourth and fifths. I can't even name some of my third cousins. I'm not close to them, and the ones that I am close to number many already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't always tolerate my extended family. I don't always agree with them either. But I love them. And I know them. And I'm glad that the closeness of family and a strong family unit is something that my kids will know. I can't imagine a Christmas Eve without 68 (and counting) people crammed into a 20 x 20 living room opening presents, running around, and being loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**edited to add the 1st cousin that is a cousin by marriage, but in our family, it doesn't matter. she's just like a blood cousin**&lt;br /&gt;**edited again because there were 2 cousins by marriage that I forgot about, plus I didn't include my parents in the brother/sister adult count. math is not my forte :)**&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-978928211124754133?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/978928211124754133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=978928211124754133' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/978928211124754133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/978928211124754133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/cousins.html' title='Cousins'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-8808062900187838386</id><published>2009-01-05T08:24:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T08:40:49.135-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye 2008, Hello 2009</title><content type='html'>2008 Recap:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Destiny broken arm (2 trips to ER, 3 to ortho)&lt;br /&gt;2. Brendan bruised elbow&lt;br /&gt;3. Keith broken leg, bed rest for 4 months, surgery, huge deductible paid WITH TWO WEEKS LEFT IN THE YEAR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully, 2009 brings us better luck in the whole broken bones department. Regardless, I've realized that the high deductible health plan is not in our best interest for 2009. So I switched us back to the PPO plan. At the end of this year I will do a cost comparison to see which plan is actually better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, some goals for 2009:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. More patience with my kids&lt;br /&gt;2. More time spent doing family activities that do not revolve around sports&lt;br /&gt;3. TAKE A REAL VACATION!&lt;br /&gt;4. Drink more water, eat less McDonald's&lt;br /&gt;5. Play with Wii Fit at least 30 minutes per day and at least 3 times a week&lt;br /&gt;6. Save more, spend less. More specifically, put aside at least $20/check out of both Keith and I's checks...when he goes back to work.&lt;br /&gt;7. Cook more, eat out less. More specifically, plan weekly meals and cook accordingly. I'm often caught in the trap of getting home late from work, tired, aggravated from traffic, and don't feel like cooking. So we eat out.&lt;br /&gt;8. Plan more one on one time with each child&lt;br /&gt;9. Devote more time to myself, even if it means going in the bathroom and locking the door for 15 minutes everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm thinking these are more goals, and not necessarily resolutions. These are things that I should strive to be better at for more than just this year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-8808062900187838386?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/8808062900187838386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=8808062900187838386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/8808062900187838386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/8808062900187838386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2009/01/goodbye-2008-hello-2009.html' title='Goodbye 2008, Hello 2009'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-2533488973174043549</id><published>2008-12-12T14:46:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T14:51:17.378-06:00</updated><title type='text'>SNEAUX DAY 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOl7YXqTI/AAAAAAAAACQ/-UU9IxOkhAs/s1600-h/100_0931.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279008864222030130" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOl7YXqTI/AAAAAAAAACQ/-UU9IxOkhAs/s320/100_0931.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We braved the cold to play in the snow yesterday! I have never seen it snow so much in south Louisiana...it was insane! The kids had fun playing in it for about 5 seconds then they were disgusted with how cold and wet it was. Regardless, I was able to snap a few pictures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOdUpQWeI/AAAAAAAAACI/docSR6WT17c/s1600-h/100_0925.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279008716384917986" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOdUpQWeI/AAAAAAAAACI/docSR6WT17c/s320/100_0925.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOXSDnaCI/AAAAAAAAACA/XlIlb9Gs68k/s1600-h/100_0922.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279008612610959394" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOXSDnaCI/AAAAAAAAACA/XlIlb9Gs68k/s320/100_0922.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOL_o2oQI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ARq2Heyylhg/s1600-h/100_0912.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279008418688311554" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOL_o2oQI/AAAAAAAAAB4/ARq2Heyylhg/s320/100_0912.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOGMMkFMI/AAAAAAAAABw/Lrl3E9dPHWM/s1600-h/100_0899.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279008318980101314" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOGMMkFMI/AAAAAAAAABw/Lrl3E9dPHWM/s320/100_0899.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-2533488973174043549?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/2533488973174043549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=2533488973174043549' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/2533488973174043549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/2533488973174043549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/12/sneaux-day-2008.html' title='SNEAUX DAY 2008'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/SULOl7YXqTI/AAAAAAAAACQ/-UU9IxOkhAs/s72-c/100_0931.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-7163334562238331728</id><published>2008-11-07T13:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T13:47:19.235-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Twigs v Full Grown Trees</title><content type='html'>So by the title you may think that this is a post about the beautiful weather outside or how the trees are changing colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recap of the conversation in my house last night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Setup: My washing machine broke, flooding my house with water (yeah, I don't even wanna talk about it) so I had to take the morning off and bring all my soaking wet clothes to the laundromat. Fast forward to when I get home and ask Brendan to go through all the folded clothes and put them in piles according to who they belong to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there is this mysterious pair of uniform shorts. Bren asks who they belong to. They are obviously too big for Des, but really too small for him. I look at the size. It's 14H (14 husky). So I determine that they are probably his and tell him to try them on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He puts them on and looks like poindexter. They are somewhat tight, but not squeezing his legs. Think cowboys and Wrangler jeans. They come about an inch above his knees. Keith looks over at him, and the conversation goes like this (Nic and Desi are at the kitchen table eating supper and me, Keith and Bren are in the living room--they're side by side)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keith: Zip them up and lets see if they fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bren: But dad there is No Room!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keith: No room for what? They look like they fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bren: Daaaad! You know what I mean (wink wink)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: His twigs and berries Keith!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bren: Twigs and berries? I have a FULL GROWN TREE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Cue laughter, gut wrenching, fall on the floor laughter from me and Keith)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desi: Ewwww. Could y'all shut up PLEASE! I'm trying to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nic: Daddy! Daddy! I got a full grown tree too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More laughter from us and gross sound effects from Des.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't know what's more disturbing. The fact that my 12 year old really does have a full grown tree, or the fact that my 9 year old daughter and 5 year old son knew exactly what we were talking about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-7163334562238331728?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/7163334562238331728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=7163334562238331728' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7163334562238331728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7163334562238331728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/11/blog-post.html' title='Twigs v Full Grown Trees'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-158028513616934612</id><published>2008-10-22T14:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T14:26:14.956-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Presidential Election 2008</title><content type='html'>I'm not a political person. I have my favorite candidates and I vote for them. I don't always vote along party lines (registered Republican by the way) I don't feel strongly about who you vote for, and sometimes I wonder if my 1 measley vote counts (technically it doesn't in a presidential election, but whateva)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, presidential election 2008. I really don't give a shit. I don't like either candidate. I think that some people feel that voting for Obama is the "cool" thing to do. He has only served 143 days in the Senate. 143 DAYS. This amount of time does not make a presidential candidate. And who is Joe Biden?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John McCain. He's an old fart that sounds like he's reading from a cue card most times and whistles his "s". For this reason alone I could not watch an entire debate. Sarah Palin--she's cute as can be. But would she make a good president if McCain kicks the bucket? Not in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, really, what does a President do? Nothing. Meet people and sign bills. The House and Senate does all the work. And there are "advisors" that tell the Prez what to say and what not so. So really, in my opinion, the presidential election is just a popularity contest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I think I decided that I'm voting for McCain. But if Hillary would have won the nomination, then I probably would have voted for her. She did a good job her first time around.... :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-158028513616934612?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/158028513616934612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=158028513616934612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/158028513616934612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/158028513616934612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/10/presidential-election-2008.html' title='Presidential Election 2008'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-7260763131230394021</id><published>2008-10-22T14:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T14:18:06.161-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dusting off and trying again...</title><content type='html'>I don't have time to blog. I really don't. But I also don't have time to keep up with my friends, so this seems like the best solution. So I'm dusting it off and trying again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-7260763131230394021?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/7260763131230394021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=7260763131230394021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7260763131230394021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7260763131230394021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/10/dusting-off-and-trying-again.html' title='Dusting off and trying again...'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-6092395677058980904</id><published>2008-05-20T12:51:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T13:03:18.251-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We're turning into our parents aren't we?</title><content type='html'>I haven't had time to blog much. For example, this is my day today...AFTER I work 7.5 hours and drive an hour home from work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:45 - Nicolas at ballpark for team pictures&lt;br /&gt;6:00 - Brendan honors ceremony at school (by invitation only so you HAVE to go)&lt;br /&gt;6:30 - Brendan baseball practice (think we're gonna skip it today)&lt;br /&gt;6:30 - Destiny AllStars softball practice&lt;br /&gt;7:00 - Nicolas T-Ball game&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So see, that's why I haven't blogged. Every stinking day has been like that this month. Well, except for the weekends....where we spend the whole time AT THE BALLPARK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...the title of this post. I always took pride in the fact that I wasn't going to be like my parents. I was going to do things differently! I was going to pioneer this whole parenting thing. That is, until yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I came to the realization that I am not my mother (thank GOD!) and I am not my father. BUT, rather, I am a happy medium between the two of them. I think that I take the best qualities from both, along with some of the worst to be honest. But the best prevail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would part the seas and jump the clouds if that's what I had to do to make sure they were happy. I have been faced with some of my worst fears regarding parenting and I think that we have made the right decisions regarding those problems. I guess only time will tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I just think that I'm doing the same things my parents did with us. Maybe not specifically, but wholly. I am doing the best that I can. And my children should be lucky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-6092395677058980904?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/6092395677058980904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=6092395677058980904' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6092395677058980904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6092395677058980904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/05/were-turning-into-our-parents-arent-we.html' title='We&apos;re turning into our parents aren&apos;t we?'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-4569162404825568778</id><published>2008-04-30T10:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T10:38:01.871-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's been one hell of a week...</title><content type='html'>As of yesterday we STILL had not heard anything from the insurance company. So, I decided to fax a letter to the insurance company and the place that they outsourced the adjusting of the property damage to. I must say, it was one HELL of a letter. 4 pages and I cited case law and Louisiana statutes both that threatened the possibility of punitive damages. REad: thousands of dollars.  I faxed it yesterday morning. This morning, Keith got a call from the insurance lady and she was having issues getting the adjusting people to call her back to. She asked for the number to the most convenient rental car place and she was going to set something up. Keith called me for the number, I gave it to him and he called her back. 15 minutes later he got a call from someone that was going out to appraise the truck and they wanted to know if his license plate was still on it. I'm telling you, that letter needs to be printed in a law review journal or something ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other, sadder news, Destiny broke her arm. And, we found out yesterday that it's been broken for 2 weeks now. Oh, CPS is going to LOVE this one--I'm sure they are still keeping dibs on us and all of our kids :)  She had a trampoline accident and fell down and hit the bar. Hard. We took her to Lake After Hours 2 weeks ago, they xrayed it and told us it was just bruised. Fast forward 2 weeks where she gets in a collision at home plate during a softball game and we head to the emergency room and it's broken. She was excited about having a cast until she realized that she is going to be out of softball for 2 weeks, or 5 games. Then she decided she didn't really need one after all. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brendan's team won their tournament this weekend. That's 3 tournaments so far with 2 first place finishes. Wow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-4569162404825568778?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/4569162404825568778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=4569162404825568778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4569162404825568778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4569162404825568778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-been-one-hell-of-week.html' title='It&apos;s been one hell of a week...'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-7874292800225223092</id><published>2008-04-23T10:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T10:47:58.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates</title><content type='html'>No info yet from the insurance company. Although I did finally talk with someone yesterday and let them know that Keith hasn't been going to work because he has no transportation. They sounded real concerned about that (mostly because they know they are going to have to pay his lost wages) so hopefully we'll get some kind of rental car this afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brendan had a quasi scrimmage last night. I call it quasi because it only lasted an inning and a half before the bottom fell out of the sky. In related news, we bought him a new bat yesterday. $299.99 plus tax worth of new bat. Now, readers, THAT is love :)  He used it yesterday and hit the ball to the warning track (about 240 feet) and had the wind not decided to stop blowing at the particular moment, it would have probably gone over the fence. Even though, we can consider that it was a legitimate hit and our investment, so far, is paying off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scrimmage has been rescheduled to Thursday night, a double header starting at 6 pm. Desi also has a game at 6 pm across town. Did I mention that we only have one freakin car? Somehow, someway I'm going to figure that one out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is my mom and dad's anniversary. 32 years. wow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-7874292800225223092?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/7874292800225223092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=7874292800225223092' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7874292800225223092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7874292800225223092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/04/updates.html' title='Updates'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-5644832614693408871</id><published>2008-04-17T08:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T08:38:52.593-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wreckage</title><content type='html'>Imagine waking up from a dead sleep at 5:45 am (15 minutes AFTER you are supposed to be up) to your house phone ringing. While I didn't find this PARTICULARLY odd, I was curious. See, Keith knows about my inability to get up in the morning so he calls religiously at 6am to make sure I'm up and moving around. But it's always at 6:00 on the dot. Never 6:01 or 5:59, but always 6. So to hear the phone ringing at 5:45 was odd. Our phone conversation went something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (Groggily) Good mornin' honey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Hey. You up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah. Did you make coffee?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: No. I got in wreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Haha. Ok, I'm up now I promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: No. Seriously. My truck is totalled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: (Mentally making sure that I paid the insurance premiums for this month) OMG. Was it your fault?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: No, some guy rear ended me and turned the truck around in the other lane and then some chick hit me on the passenger side. My truck is really totalled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You're not lying huh? Are you ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Him: Yeah I'm fine but can you come and get me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Sure. Let me get the kids up and dressed and I'll be there shortly. Where are you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mad dash ensues to get kids up at ungodly hour of 6 am. And they protested. LOUDLY. But I got them up, dressed and to the babysitter and was headed to Keith by 6:05.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arrived on the scene and it's not pretty. Truck is definitely totalled. Took Keith to work (amazingly he's fine...well, right now. I'm fairly certain that he will be hurting tomorrow though). Now, the dealings with the insurance company take place. THIS ought to be fun. At least I have a team of lawyers on my side willing to work for free to get me top dollar for his truck. Ugh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-5644832614693408871?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/5644832614693408871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=5644832614693408871' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5644832614693408871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5644832614693408871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/04/wreckage.html' title='Wreckage'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-5347819658899136383</id><published>2008-04-10T11:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-10T11:13:26.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bi</title><content type='html'>A friend of mine asked another friend of mine if I was Bi the other day. Simply because my husband likes to sign in to my myspace page and make changes. She didn't bat an eye at the $250K year salary though......many funny conversations have come about this revelation. She was honestly upset that I had never "propositioned" her. LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-5347819658899136383?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/5347819658899136383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=5347819658899136383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5347819658899136383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5347819658899136383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/04/bi.html' title='Bi'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-4798705428076989020</id><published>2008-04-01T09:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T09:39:20.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Firsts</title><content type='html'>Brendan has his first baseball tourney this weekend. We lost both games on Saturday and then came back Sunday and beat the #1 ranked team. Then we lost the 2nd game. All in all it was a great start to the season. Brendan not only got a starting position, but he was also in the fourth batter slot. His knees were SHAKING when he got up to bat, but he did good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Destiny had her first softball practice. Alls I can say is, It's going to be a loooooong season. She is heads and tails far above the rest of those little girls. She's bored. I mean, seriously, I'm not saying that 'cause she's my child but she is really too advanced for this team. But we'll have fun and we'll make it through and she'll be the star. Maybe the rest will come around....we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nicolas also had his first T-Ball practice last night. It was sooooo freakin cute! I just LOVE watching those little ones get on the field and play ball. They run the wrong way, they pick flowers in the field, they turn cartwheels and play around. I wish I wouldn't have forgotten my video camera! So Nic comes up to bat, and he's probably by far the littlest one out there, and everybody is like "oh he's so tiiiiiny. that's is just precious." and then he picks up the bat and hits the ball to the fence. You should have heard the silence in the stands. Ok, so you can't really "hear" the silence, but it was a good 3 seconds before anybody said anything. And then he picked up another ball and did it again. I think he's going to have a blast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next weekend is our only weekend off between now and Mother's Day. I'm torn about what to do. I really really really want to go to Monroe and watch ULM play since it will be the last time we can do that. Literally. DJ is graduating this year and this will be our only weekend off and I really want to go. Since it's DJ's senior year I want to be able to experience that with him. While we were at Brendan's game on Sunday I randomly picked up my cell phone and asked my mom if DJ was pitching....she told me that I must have ESP because he just got on the field. I'm telling you, we have this connection that's just WEIRD. Anyway, I want to go. But Keith wants to stay home so that I (notice the I, not the we) can fix up the flowerbeds and get the yard cleaned up. Yuck. I rather pay somebody or not have flowers at all since we aren't home to enjoy them anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking into hiring someone to come clean my house once a week or every two weeks. I can pick up the crap, and the cleaning would just be contained to bathrooms, living room, kitchen and my bedroom. Kids rooms don't count and they keep those pretty clean. I just don't have time to dust, mop, vacuum and clean the kitchen. To me it would be well worth $40 to pay someone to come in and do all that and a couple loads of laundry. If anyone knows anyone let me know!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-4798705428076989020?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/4798705428076989020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=4798705428076989020' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4798705428076989020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4798705428076989020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/04/firsts.html' title='Firsts'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-6812128229045300477</id><published>2008-03-29T11:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-29T11:20:25.414-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I've been Tagged - The Book MeMe</title><content type='html'>I've been tagged by Giftie. So...The Book Meme:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Pick up the nearest book of at least 123 pages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Open the book to page 123.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Find the fifth sentence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Post the next three sentences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Tag five people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1:  "Daddy Next Door" by Ginger Chambers (a Harlequin romance novel)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2-4:    You're married and the people of Tyler know about it. So the only thing we can do--George and I--is to support you all the way. If you want me to, I'll pretend that I knew about it all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:   Jess, Shirl, Sandi, Tanya and Kristi H., YOU'VE BEEN TAGGED!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-6812128229045300477?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/6812128229045300477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=6812128229045300477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6812128229045300477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6812128229045300477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/03/ive-been-tagged-book-meme.html' title='I&apos;ve been Tagged - The Book MeMe'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-8339098457627317747</id><published>2008-03-28T07:42:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-28T07:50:20.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Baseballings</title><content type='html'>Our schedule:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday 7:00 - Nic t-ball practice&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday 6:00 - Brendan baseball practice&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday 5:45 - Nic t-ball practice&lt;br /&gt;Thursday 6:00 - Brendan baseball practice&lt;br /&gt;Friday 5:30 - Destiny softball practice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weekends - Brendan baseball tourneys, except for next weekend and Mother's Day weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Social life for me and Keith - nonexistent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh....but you know what, we love it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-8339098457627317747?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/8339098457627317747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=8339098457627317747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/8339098457627317747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/8339098457627317747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/03/baseballings.html' title='Baseballings'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-6449728304877190795</id><published>2008-03-18T13:54:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T13:58:15.474-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Party Pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQkrp-RjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TtlNs39cUIk/s1600-h/IMG_3191.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179157793856177714" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQkrp-RjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TtlNs39cUIk/s320/IMG_3191.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Counting his loot from The Great Easter Egg Hunt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQdbp-RiI/AAAAAAAAAAc/6bvlAP6ILMg/s1600-h/IMG_3215.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179157669302126114" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQdbp-RiI/AAAAAAAAAAc/6bvlAP6ILMg/s320/IMG_3215.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Opening up some gifts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQVbp-RhI/AAAAAAAAAAU/DzV0HpQtdOU/s1600-h/IMG_3183.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179157531863172626" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQVbp-RhI/AAAAAAAAAAU/DzV0HpQtdOU/s320/IMG_3183.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to You!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQM7p-RgI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IH4Izmu4fRc/s1600-h/IMG_3172.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179157385834284546" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQM7p-RgI/AAAAAAAAAAM/IH4Izmu4fRc/s320/IMG_3172.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; There's candy inside these eggs? Score!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-6449728304877190795?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/6449728304877190795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=6449728304877190795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6449728304877190795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6449728304877190795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/03/birthday-party-pics.html' title='Birthday Party Pics'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_-b6bCHhymDA/R-AQkrp-RjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/TtlNs39cUIk/s72-c/IMG_3191.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-6536189614024742855</id><published>2008-03-18T13:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T13:54:08.756-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLAS!!</title><content type='html'>My baby turned 5 yesterday. Sniff, sniff. I no longer have any "babies", they are all grown now. We had his party at Jambalaya Park in Gonzales and I think it was a pretty fabulous turnout. The kids seemed to have lots more fun playing on the equipment rather than having an actual party...Nicolas included! Good thing I'm not a time management freak because I was doing good to get the party in before dark!  We had cake (which my mom made and was delicious!), we had pizza, we had candy, we had cookies and we had Capri Sun. I just laid everything out on the table and let the kids graze at will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hardest part of the whole party was lighting the candles. It was sooooo windy! But that was okay because he didn't seem to concerned anyway. When we got home we did it properly and he was able to blow them all out. This was my first attempt at a weeknight party also. I didn't expect to have alot of people show up, but it was a decent turnout. We were lucky in that there weren't many extra kids there just playing. There were a couple and I was happy to have them participate in the party, but a Saturday/Sunday afternoon crowd would not have been bearable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I carried around all the party items in the back of my car and went home after work to ice the drinks down and then headed over to the park to set up. It wasn't too bad....except that I made a planned stop at Walmart to pick up a sandwich tray that I had ordered, but it turns out that they didn't make it.  I was pretty peeved at first, but in hindsight it wasn't necessary. We had lots of pizza and cake and cookies to sustain the kids ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Easter Egg Hunt was a hit. I could remember my mom always doing those with DJ and Sandi's parties and I missed that. Some thick clovers would have been nice, but with kids under the age of 5 we did good by just throwing them on the ground! So, for me, it was a success. Now that it's over, I can concentrate on Easter!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-6536189614024742855?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/6536189614024742855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=6536189614024742855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6536189614024742855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6536189614024742855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/03/happy-birthday-nicolas.html' title='HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLAS!!'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-4830202005118952010</id><published>2008-03-14T14:03:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T14:20:23.637-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Add Department of Social Services to the list.....</title><content type='html'>I may have mentioned it before, but I have not necessarily been the model citizen in my 29 years on this earth. I have done my fair share of crap, I have been arrested and I spent the night in jail (non-violent or drug related activities thank you). That being said, I would NEVER harm a child. Not mine, not anyone else's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, my son's Pre-K teacher thinks differently. Picture this, I'm at my place of work--a LAW office--and we have a deposition starting in 10 minutes. I just went meet the plaintiff attorney and the plaintiff and talked to them for a while. (Side note: the attorney told me on the phone yesterday that his client, "was two tacos shy of a combination platter." and he was right.) Moving on, I get back to my desk and my co-worker tells me that I left my cell phone on. Oops. So I check it, expecting it to be Keith, but it's some weird number that i've never seen before. So I call it back and it's H. M. with Department of Social Services and he needs me and my husband to come into his office ASAP because someone has brought a complaint of child abuse against us because of the bruising on Nicolas' body. Can you say DISTRAUGHT??? I couldn't function. I went in my boss' office and shut the door and immediately broke down. He is such an awesome man...he had his daughters ring ceremony at work and he told me that if he needed me to he would come with me and miss that. He tried to reassure me that it was all routine and something they had to do but everything would be ok because it was obviously not true.  He told me to stay in his office as long as I needed and he would leave me in there so I could talk on the phone privately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let me tell you about Nicolas. He will be 5 on Monday. He is less than 3 feet tall and weighs 26 pounds. He's just tiny. But he THINKS that he is as big as his big brother and can do whatever he does. He plays tackle football, he wrestles, and he literally bounces off the floor and walls. He is covered in bruises from head to toe. But they are "little boy" bruises from being such a rough and tumble kid. NOT bruises from abuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Keith and I go to the Department of Social Services. We are interviewed and "in order for the child to stay in the home we have to come up with an 'alternative discipline program'" Leave it to my husband to use this situation to get cocky. He tells the lady that he just won't discipline them anymore and let them take a gun to school when he's 15 and shoot people. I died. Literally, I think my heart stopped beating and I died for a second right there on the spot. The lady told us to hold on and she was going to get the supervisor. I just knew that was the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, you may wonder why I am writing this for the world to see, but it's more of a public service announcement. Obviously, this can happen to ANY parent and happens frequently with educators. Now, they didn't outright tell us that it was his teacher, but based on the conversations we made the logical assumption that it was her. The bruise that got us called in there was on his butt. Now I asked the lady what anyone was doing looking at my child's butt, and why wasn't one of his parents present when he was checked out. Since she couldn't tell me who called it in she couldn't explain that one to me. But now I have to make the decision of going to the school and opening a can of worms. My kids have many years left at this school and while I don't think beyond a shadow of a doubt that the teacher is NOT a child molester, it still concerns me. They are PRe-K and maybe she was helping a little boy out in the bathroom or something while Nic was peeing. That would be the only acceptable explanation to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the supervisor at DSS comes in and she is hilarious. She is down to earth and she makes us feel comfortable, or me at least. Now, here's where the public service announcement comes in. DSS does allow spanking. And they encourage you to spank them. She even told us that if we felt they needed to be spanked, because sometimes kids do, that we could use a ruler. They have to come in when the abuse leaves marks, such as bruises. But if there are no marks or bruises they can't do anything about it. And, so say, bruises and paint stirrers don't leave marks. She assured us that they would get an "outsider opinion" from someone and then close their files because it obviously wasn't a case of abuse. But goddamnit I still feel like I somehow did something wrong and now people will be looking at my kids closely and monitoring our parenting skills. While I'm glad that educators are looking out for stuff, I'm not super excited that someone would think that I'm a child abuser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I finally got things cleared up with the bank today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-4830202005118952010?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/4830202005118952010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=4830202005118952010' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4830202005118952010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4830202005118952010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/03/add-department-of-social-services-to.html' title='Add Department of Social Services to the list.....'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-3792577490948263549</id><published>2008-03-11T10:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T10:37:07.051-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate banks. Seriously.</title><content type='html'>So, I go to put gas in my new guzzler this morning and a note pops up on the screen "Please see cashier." Well, I was running late and isn't the point of having a debit card NOT having to go in and see the cashier. So I figured I could make it to work and just get gas at lunch time. Well, on my way to work I get a text message from Keith, "I just tried to get breakfast. Card doesn't work. How much money did you spend?"  Seriously? BOTH cards not working. And getting declined at the gas pump is a whole lot less embarrassing than getting declined face to face with a cashier and a line of people behind you--and not having any cash in your wallet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I get to work, I check my online banking. NEGATIVE $440. WHAT???  I must admit, I'm not the best when it comes to balancing a checkbook, but I have learned to "hide" money in there. So there's no way it could be negative, especially not THAT MUCH. So I'm looking at all the line entries and I notice that there are multiple duplicate charges. And these are not $4 and $5 charges, they are ATM withdrawals of $200, credit transactions of $93 and $118 posted TWICE, along with a few other small ones posted twice. Not to mention 10 NSF charges in the amount of $32 each. So I get on the phone with the bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My conversation with the bank goes something like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Hi. I was just looking over my online banking transactions and it appears that there are multiple duplicate charges made to my account that made it go negative and then accrue NSF charges."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bank: "Yeah, our system ended up posting transactions twice on some accounts and we're working to get it fixed. Don't worry, those NSF charges will be reversed." (Oh, you better BELIEVE they will be!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Really. Well, I need gas in my car and I can't use my card. Do you have any idea when this will be corrected."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bank: "N0. It could be a couple of hours or a couple of days."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Well, it better be a couple of hours because if I can't get home tonight because I don't have any gas I WILL be sitting inside the branch until it's corrected."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bank: "Maam, the braches close at 4:30."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Well, looks like you have until then to get it fixed. Thanks and have a nice day." Hang up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh. Can't we go back to the old days of hiding money under the mattress?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-3792577490948263549?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/3792577490948263549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=3792577490948263549' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3792577490948263549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3792577490948263549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-hate-banks-seriously.html' title='I hate banks. Seriously.'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-3641271557311998674</id><published>2008-03-06T14:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-06T14:55:53.570-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Weight Loss</title><content type='html'>I'm on a quest to lose weight. No, I am not dieting. I am not restricting myself to THAT word. Diets scare me and I'm off of 'em before I can start 'em. So I am just going to lose weight. The amount or rate of loss is not important to me right now. If I lose 2 pounds per week, then I should have the excess of in about nine months....right around the time K has her baby :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I know that drinking water is key to losing weight. I know it, but I don't like it. So the first step to my weight loss program is adding in some water. Here is a link to the best site I've come across on WHY you need to drink more water &lt;a href="http://www.inch-aweigh.com/water.html"&gt;http://www.inch-aweigh.com/water.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, step 1. Drink more water. I've already drank 2 of the 1 liter bottles of water, not to mention the fact that I've gone to the bathroom 16 times today. That doesn't do much for my billable time! LOL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week, we'll add Step 2. Right now, I'm just focusing on Step 1.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.inch-aweigh.com/water.html"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-3641271557311998674?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/3641271557311998674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=3641271557311998674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3641271557311998674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3641271557311998674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/03/weight-loss.html' title='Weight Loss'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-6535045138843203339</id><published>2008-03-04T08:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T08:58:28.898-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My Name Is.......</title><content type='html'>Kiddddddddd Rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and my friend Tanya went to the Kid Rock concert in Biloxi last Wednesday. We took off of work at noon that day and drove out there. Originally it was supposed to be me and Keith, but he bailed on me because he was up for a promotion at work and didn't want to miss any days. Whatever. We had a FANTASTIC time and now I know why that man has so many groupies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The concert was energy from the freakin get go. We had seats on the floor (note to self: do not wear the knee high black boots with 3 inch heels when you will be standing up for 4 hours. end note.) and have some great pictures and videos. There was no opening act...all him all the time. He had some guy from the Alleman Brothers band come out at one point and they did a little throwback to some old country. Then he had Reverend Run from Run DMC come out and they did some throwback rap. I mean, this concert was in the top 3 of the best I've ever been to. He had music from all genres and even a little mixing skit that was hilarious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tanya and I both agreed that if we had the opportunity we would definitely catch this concert again. Yeah, he's pretty raunchy and just a little bit white trash.....but so am I! ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-6535045138843203339?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/6535045138843203339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=6535045138843203339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6535045138843203339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6535045138843203339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-name-is.html' title='My Name Is.......'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-1479009500352962989</id><published>2008-02-25T15:36:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T15:39:57.963-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I enjoy reading other people's blogs....</title><content type='html'>I tend to think of myself as "computer savvy." Granted, I can't write any programs nor can I get into system files and command prompts and figure out what's wrong. But give me 5 minutes with a program and I can figure out how to use it without a manual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that being said, I think I need to spend at least 5 minutes trying to figure out to use this website. I run across blogs that interest me, or I think are funny, etc. and I would love to link to them here. But I don't know how to do that. I took me a while to figure out how to add a link, and don't even get me started on adding photos or videos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day when I have some free time I'll figure out how all this works. Other than that, please know that I enjoy reading everyone else's blogs. It breaks the mundaneness (is that even a word?) of my life and lets me know that there are others out there like me and there are people out there that despise mothers like me. Eh. I like reading about them all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-1479009500352962989?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/1479009500352962989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=1479009500352962989' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/1479009500352962989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/1479009500352962989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-enjoy-reading-other-peoples-blogs.html' title='I enjoy reading other people&apos;s blogs....'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-5363325543652896334</id><published>2008-02-20T09:32:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T09:40:36.102-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I am the proud new owner.....</title><content type='html'>of a 2005 Buick Rainier (see below post).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to the dealership one final time yesterday afternoon. Our salesman called me and said that he had some "good news" for us and wanted us to come in. Never did he elaborate on that good news and I would NOT recommend this salesman to ANYONE....but the finance department and rest of the business is fantastic. Third car we buy from there. anyway....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.edmunds.com"&gt;www.edmunds.com&lt;/a&gt; and got all the pricing information on the newused car we were buying, as well as my trade in. I was determined that I was going to walk in prepared and show them that we're not some stupid kids trying to buy a car. Turns out, I didn't need that folder after all. They came down $2K on the asking price (which wasn't enough initially), but ended up giving me $5500 for my car. Are you kidding me? No, that's not a typo. Turns out, they made the trade in value higher instead of the price lower so that it "looked good" to the credit people. Whatever. According to edmunds, the value of my trade was $900. And that was WITHOUT disclosing the busted head gasket. The way I see it, I shoul d have paid them to take it off my hands. So, I was well prepared to go in and demand that I wasn't paying a penny more than $16K, when they offered me $14395.00 after you do all the math. I was happy and we signed the papers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pick up my car on Friday.....AFTER they put me 4 new tires and a new windshield :)  They may have blown me away with the price, but I still wanted (needed) to get SOMETHING out of them! hahahahaha.   Oh and I have 36 hours from the time I take delivery to have it inspected by my mechanic--hopefully all is well in the hood!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-5363325543652896334?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/5363325543652896334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=5363325543652896334' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5363325543652896334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5363325543652896334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-am-proud-new-owner.html' title='I am the proud new owner.....'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-6362310491510485095</id><published>2008-02-18T10:26:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T10:39:05.873-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate car shopping!</title><content type='html'>I was planning on buying a new car. But because I wanted to, not because I HAD to. This makes the stress of car buying a little easier and who lot funner to walk away from a salesman because they don't want to give you the price you are looking for...only to have them call you a few days later finally relenting to that price.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought my car to the shop to have some spark plugs changed because the engine was misfiring. No big deal. He called me and told me it would be $75 to change those plugs, rotate the tires and change my oil. So he proceeded to rotate the tires and change the oil. An hour later I get a call, "I have some bad news about your car. Give me a call." Uh-oh. So I called....there was water in the spark plug area. Which means, I had a busted head gasket. $2500 to fix it. The car is not WORTH $2500. So I asked him if he could fix it and make the lights go off long enough for me to take it to the dealership and trade it in. Absolutely he says. So I left work early on Friday and went car shopping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know I'm young. But I let a car dealer get over on me once before and I am never letting that happen again. I'm not buying a 2005 model car with 30K miles on it for $18K....I don't CARE what the original price was. I don't care that it's a Buick and that it's gorgeous and that I fell in love with it the minute I opened the door. I don't care that THIS is the car that I want. I'm not paying that much money. So the games begin. Now...we went drive by the dealership yesterday to look at it again to make sure that's the one I wanted, and it was nowhere to be found. As late as Saturday afternoon we were still wheeling and dealing on it so maybe they relocated it inside to get detailed or something....I just don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm waiting on them to call be "before noon" today for their FINAL price. If that car is gone it's not really a big deal b/c there are 2 other ones there that I really liked and honestly are probably more practical. But I hate HAVING to buy something rather than being able to just walk away and start over. The credit is already pulled, the financing is in place, and price is the only deal breaker (well, unless they sold it out from under me of course).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now I'm driving my grandma's car. They appraised mine and only offered me $1000, but I'm not negotiating on that point. I can't morally sell it to someone knowing what's wrong with it, and I don't want them to look at my car any harder...especially since once I drove it off after they appraised it the damn thing started misfiring again and driving all stupid. although I know it's worth at least $1500, that's not an issue I care to fight. So I'll fight price, but boy do I HATE it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Especially since I LOVE this car!  &lt;a href="http://www.autobase.com/cgi/info.exe?bc=3625675&amp;amp;dealer=astarflm"&gt;http://www.autobase.com/cgi/info.exe?bc=3625675&amp;amp;dealer=astarflm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.autobase.com/cgi/info.exe?bc=3625675&amp;amp;dealer=astarflm"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-6362310491510485095?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/6362310491510485095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=6362310491510485095' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6362310491510485095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/6362310491510485095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-hate-car-shopping.html' title='I hate car shopping!'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-1303870660989570279</id><published>2008-02-14T08:29:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T08:32:58.907-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day!</title><content type='html'>I'm not expecting anything from my husband. I figure that our 8 year anniversary is on the 25th and I'm honestly not expecting anything for that either. I guess I just don't "get" the whole gift giving thing. Especially on a manufactured holiday. I mean, we buy stuff we want when we want it. And if it's a big ticket item we discuss it with the other person beforehand and the cost and evaluate when/if we'll get it. Kinda like the boat he's been wanting for a few years....it just keeps falling further and further down the priority list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, while I'm not going to be traipsing Walmart at lunch time today for anything for my husband...I will be perusing the aisles for stuff for my kids. They don't understand about the manufactured holiday...especially after getting a bounty of stuff from mawmaw and nanny sandi last night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-1303870660989570279?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/1303870660989570279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=1303870660989570279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/1303870660989570279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/1303870660989570279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day!'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-3043736942426136003</id><published>2008-02-11T18:52:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T18:58:23.110-06:00</updated><title type='text'>All About HIM</title><content type='html'>Stolen from KBOX: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is his name? His middle name is Keith, which is what he goes by. I won't tell you his "real" name for fear of retribution ;)&lt;br /&gt;How long have you been married? 8 years on Feb. 25th&lt;br /&gt;How long did you date? about 2 years&lt;br /&gt;How old is he? 33&lt;br /&gt;How old are you? 29&lt;br /&gt;Who eats more sweets? Me&lt;br /&gt;Who said I love you first? We both wanted to say it but neither wanted to be the first one....so we counted to 3 and said it together&lt;br /&gt;Who is taller? Him but barely&lt;br /&gt;Who can sing better? I'm going to say him for sure&lt;br /&gt;Who is smarter? That depends. I have more book smarts but he has more common sense. And he knows a little bit about alot of things.&lt;br /&gt;Who does the laundry? Our son ;)&lt;br /&gt;Who does the dishes? Again, our son&lt;br /&gt;Who pays the bills? We share the responsibility&lt;br /&gt;His guilty pleasure? Fishing &lt;br /&gt;Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Well, if you're standing at the foot of the bed looking at the headboard then I sleep on the right side&lt;br /&gt;Who mows the lawn? Our poor son.....&lt;br /&gt;Besides you, who is his best friend? Jay for sure!&lt;br /&gt;Who cooks dinner? He cooks the BEST spaghetti...I cook everything else&lt;br /&gt;Who drives? If we're going in or through Baton Rouge then I do, otherwise he does&lt;br /&gt;Who kissed who first? He kissed me&lt;br /&gt;Who asked who out first? He asked me.&lt;br /&gt;What was your first date? We went to the Texas Club to listen to Wayne Toups&lt;br /&gt;Who proposed? Him.&lt;br /&gt;Who has more siblings? I have more natural siblings....he has more extended siblings&lt;br /&gt;Who wears the pants? It's a mutual thing...we complement each other well and reign each other in when we get a little out of hand&lt;br /&gt;What is your favorite thing about him? The fact that before he adopted Brendan he always treated him as his own and never thought anything other than him being is blood child&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-3043736942426136003?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/3043736942426136003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=3043736942426136003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3043736942426136003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3043736942426136003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/02/all-about-him.html' title='All About HIM'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-3468230683568278179</id><published>2008-02-11T15:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T15:53:07.358-06:00</updated><title type='text'>This is SO true. I love it!</title><content type='html'>A young woman was about to finish her first year of college. Like so many others her age, she considered herself to be a very liberal Democrat, and among other liberal ideals, was very much in favor of higher taxes to support more government programs; in other words, redistribution of wealth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was deeply ashamed her father was a rather staunch Republican, a feeling she openly expressed. Based on the lectures she had participated in, and the occasional chat with her professors, she felt her father had for years harbored an evil,  selfish desire to keep what he thought should be his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, she was challenging her father on his opposition to higher taxes and the need for more government programs. The self-professed objectivity proclaimed by her professors had to be the truth, and she indicated so to her father. He responded by asking how she was doing in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taken aback, she answered rather haughtily that she had a 4.0 GPA, and let him know that it was tough to maintain, insisting that she was taking a very difficult course load and was constantly studying, which left her no time to go out and party like other people she knew. She didn't even have time for a boyfriend, and didn't really have many college friends either because she spent all her time studying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her father listened, then asked, "How is your friend Audrey doing?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replied, "Audrey is barely getting by. All she takes are easy classes, she never studies, and she barely has a 2.0 GPA. She is so popular on campus; college for her is a blast. She's always invited to all the parties, and lots of times she doesn't even show up for classes because she's too hung over ."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her father asked her, "Why don't you go to the Dean's office and ask him to deduct a 1.0 off your GPA and give it to your friend Audrey, who only has a 2.0? That way you will both have a 3.0 GPA. Certainly that would be a fair and equal distribution of GPA, no?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The daughter, visibly shocked by her father's suggestion, angrily fired back, "That's a crazy idea! How would that be fair? I've worked really hard       for my grades! I've invested a lot of time, and a lot of hard work. And she's done next to nothing toward her degree. She played while I worked my tail off!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Really," said the father. Then he slowly smiled, winked, and said gently, &lt;br /&gt;"Welcome to the Republican Party."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-3468230683568278179?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/3468230683568278179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=3468230683568278179' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3468230683568278179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3468230683568278179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/02/this-is-so-true-i-love-it.html' title='This is SO true. I love it!'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-3064593624218212892</id><published>2008-02-08T08:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T08:05:31.830-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugh</title><content type='html'>My secretary walked out 2 weeks ago today. Just walked out. After being here for 2 months, didn't say goodbye, thank you, screw you....nothing. Just walked out. Which means that my boss has been PILING the work on me. Between working late, shuttling the kids around and trying to keep some sort of cleanliness to my house I've barely had time to sleep. I better get a BIG bonus after all of this......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and another thing. I sit right beside the kitchen and for the past 2 weeks someone has been coming in making this awful smelling stuff for breakfast that permeates to my office until about lunch time. It's some kind of egg/maple syrup/burnt toast smell. Good thing I'm not pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost my sunglasses. Again. At the Spanish Town parade after almost being rolled over by the Zapp's potato chip fire truck thing because the breaks went out. And as we're trying to push back through 4 rows of people one particularly bitchy woman refused to move because she was afraid of losing her spot almost causing my 4 year old to get run over by the fire truck. In a last ditch effort Keith had to pick him up and throw him to my boss about 5 feet away from us. (Side note: I think that was his favorite catch of the day hehehe)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-3064593624218212892?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/3064593624218212892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=3064593624218212892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3064593624218212892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3064593624218212892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/02/ugh.html' title='Ugh'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-7181143654798079231</id><published>2008-01-24T10:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T10:55:38.634-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day in the Life</title><content type='html'>Wednesday, January 23, 2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even wrote the times down people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2:00 am - wake up to dog pawing me in the face to go outside. Bring said dog out and stumble back to bed.&lt;br /&gt;2:34 am - Said dog pawing at bedroom window to be let back in because it was cold and raining. Get out of bed yet again while throwing disgusted look at husband wondering if he's pretending he doesn't hear her or if he's really that oblivious. Stumble out of bed to open the bedroom window (i.e. white trash doggy door because the dog decided it would be easier to go in and out via window and ate the screen) and let dog back in. Brings in other dog with her. &lt;br /&gt;2:36 am - race back into bed before dogs steal my warm spot. Too late. Move over to edge of bed and go back to sleep, shivering.&lt;br /&gt;4:00 am - wake up to husband pouring cold water in my face because I lost a bet and promised I would cook him breakfast. (Note to self: waking up at 4:00 am is no longer an item to bet with--sleep is too valuable to part with)&lt;br /&gt;4:05 am - fix a cup of coffee.&lt;br /&gt;4:06 am - spill said cup of coffee all over the living room carpet. Look at it and ultimately refuse to scrub it clean. Said carpet will be replaced in 2 weeks anyway.&lt;br /&gt;4:07 - get more coffee&lt;br /&gt;4:10 - go into kitchen to cook breakfast, only to realize we are out of milk and eggs (Note to self: lecture kids on not writing down when they take the last of something)&lt;br /&gt;4:15 - go to room and throw on some jogging pants and a sweatshirt&lt;br /&gt;4:20 - head out the door to store to buy breakfast&lt;br /&gt;4:35 - realize that it's the middle of the night and no stores are open. Head back home.&lt;br /&gt;4:45 - give husband disgusted look, tell him to take his bet and shove it up his butt and crawl back into bed. Go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;6:05 - wake up to alarm going off &lt;br /&gt;6:10 - jump in shower, get dressed, do daily morning stuff &lt;br /&gt;6:20 - wake up kids, put youngest ones clothes out on bed, make sure they are up and getting dressed before I leave room.&lt;br /&gt;6:25 - go into kitchen and pack up lunch, bills, book, cell phone and other personal items I need to take care of while I'm at work (Note to self: NEVER tell boss about this blog)&lt;br /&gt;6:30 - load up into car and head to babysitters&lt;br /&gt;6:33 - get to babysitters, realize little one has left his shoes at home. Drive back home&lt;br /&gt;6:45 - get back to babysitters with kids shoes. Realize he has a pair on the floor in the back seat. Cuss.&lt;br /&gt;6:47 - head into work. fight traffic. Cuss more. This day is NOT starting off good.&lt;br /&gt;7:29 - get to work (on time--miraculously!) &lt;br /&gt;7:35 - 4:00 - getting paid. my work stuff is pretty boring...requested some medical records, answered some discovery, drafted some pleadings, answered some phone calls, bitched about pro-bono social security disability cases my boss has agreed to take--then letting me know that I'll be doing all the work. Read over said cases. Realize that 4 out of 5 are bogus. Cuss more.&lt;br /&gt;4:01 - head home. Fight traffic again. Realize I'm almost out of gas. Decide not to stop.&lt;br /&gt;4:45 - arrive at home to pick up the oldest child.&lt;br /&gt;4:50 - arrive at babysitter to pick up the 2 younger ones. Head to religion class.&lt;br /&gt;5:15 - arrive at religion class and drop daughter off. Head to Mo-Mo's house&lt;br /&gt;5:17 - arrive at Mo-Mo's house and sit with her for 1.5 hours until mom returns from religion with daughter in tow. While at Mo-Mo's we empty out her change container (HUGE CONTAINER) and my dad asks us to pull out $15 in pennies so he can put them in his penny jar and he will replace with quarters. Me and oldest son count them out. Youngest son on the computer in spare bedroom. Finish counting pennies, marvel over how big of a mound only $15 in pennies is, and put rest of change back in container. Realize that 3/4 full container is now only 1/2 full. That was alot of pennies! (Side note: my dad has been collecting pennies in a 5 gallon Kentwood water container for as long as I can remember...at least 15 years. He still hasn't gotten it completely filled up yet)&lt;br /&gt;7:05--leave Mo-Mo's house and head back home. &lt;br /&gt;7:20 - arrive home and start cooking supper. Realize kitchen is filthy and refuse to cook in there until it's clean. Oldest son sheepishly looks at me because he know's that it is his job to make sure the kitchen is clean everyday before I get home. He does dishes and wipes off counters.&lt;br /&gt;7:35 - I head back into the kitchen to make supper. Hamburger steaks, Baked Beans, Some herb noodles and rice and gravy. &lt;br /&gt;8:05 - fix everyone's plate and gathers everyone for supper&lt;br /&gt;8:08 - return to table to catch dog standing in chair eating son's supper. Refrain from beating dog and open back door instead, look at dog and say "Out. Now" Dog puts head down and goes outside....just like a kid b/c as soon as she gets near me she speeds up to make sure she doesn't get a whipping). fix kid another plate of food.&lt;br /&gt;8:30 - head to kitchen to clean up supper dishes and make my lunch for the next day.&lt;br /&gt;8:45 - jump in shower to relax&lt;br /&gt;9:00 - get in bed and watch American Idol (DVR'd)&lt;br /&gt;Fall asleep sometime during AI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, in retrospect this was a pretty atypical day for me. I mean, there were no practices and I actually cooked supper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-7181143654798079231?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/7181143654798079231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=7181143654798079231' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7181143654798079231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7181143654798079231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/day-in-life.html' title='A Day in the Life'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-812867447060442870</id><published>2008-01-23T10:37:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T10:46:29.670-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Heath Ledger (and others)</title><content type='html'>I must confess. One of my guilty pleasures is celebrity gossip. I frequently visit many different websites throughout the day to keep abreast of the daily going ons of hollywood people. Anyway, on one of these websites, &lt;a href="http://www.perezhilton.com"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, there was THIS post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://perezhilton.com/2008-01-23-heaths-family-speaks"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Taking a moment from their grieving, Heather Ledger's family addressed Australian television on Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His dad, Kim, said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We, Heath's family, confirm, the very tragic, untimely and accidental passing of our dearly loved son, brother and doting father of Matilda. He was found peacefully asleep in his New York apartment by his housekeeper at 3:30 p.m. U.S. time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We would like to thank our friends and everyone around the world for their well wishes and kind thoughts at this time. Heath has touched so many people on so many different levels during his short life but few had the pleasure of truly knowing him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was a down to earth, generous, kind-hearted, life-loving and selfless individual who was extremely inspirational to many. Please now respect our family's need to grieve and come to terms with our loss privately."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Image via WENN.] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Posted: January 23, 2008 at 4:59 am&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I tell you how appalled I am?? No matter what choices someone makes in life, no matter if we consider them right or wrong or later in life wish to change those choices, a funeral is a time to grieve. I've done bad things in my life that I sometimes wish I could go back and change, but if one of those things ever led to someone picketing my funeral while my family and children were trying to grieve, I think that I would have to come back and personally haunt those people. I just can't get over the amount of gumption a person has to have to infringe on such a personal and reverent event. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However appalled I am, you better believe that I'm going to continue to follow this story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-812867447060442870?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/812867447060442870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=812867447060442870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/812867447060442870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/812867447060442870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/heath-ledger-and-others.html' title='Heath Ledger (and others)'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-3447315067614717050</id><published>2008-01-23T07:57:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T07:59:34.008-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Brendan and his (non) athleticism</title><content type='html'>Brendan is playing basketball this year. For the first time ever. Up until Christmas we never even had a goal in our driveway. I am not impressed by the sport and no very limited information about it. Anyway, I am enjoying the crap out of watching Brendan play. And that's not necessarily a good thing. We are 2 weeks in and he's busted his nose, tripped over his own two feet, made a basket for THE OTHER TEAM, and fouled out within the first five minutes of a game (can't seem to get him to realize that basketball is NOT football).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-3447315067614717050?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/3447315067614717050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=3447315067614717050' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3447315067614717050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3447315067614717050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/brendan-and-his-non-athleticism.html' title='Brendan and his (non) athleticism'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-3057587984564031775</id><published>2008-01-23T07:50:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T07:56:49.163-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Confederate Flag</title><content type='html'>Let me just say that I like the flag. I think it's pretty. I've even been known to dress my children in clothing that was made of the same material. Let me also say that my high school mascot was the Rebel man and our flag was the Rebel flag (see post below about Al Sharpton). Granted, the school does not use the flag anymore, but I digress. I like to think that I like the flag b/c I am proud to be from the South. I am proud of what my heritage is, even though it may not all be good. I believe (now) that the flag stands for the South, not for white supremacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were watching the news last night about the marches in Jena on MLK day. When they showed the "Nationalists" marching they were proudly waving and carrying their rebel flags. I turned to Keith and told him that seeing that was the reason that everyone identifies the flag with negative connotations (and rightfully so). In this situation the flag does not stand for the South, but for the right to own slaves and to show that white people are better than anyone else. He agreed. That, in fact, is amazing in itself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-3057587984564031775?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/3057587984564031775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=3057587984564031775' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3057587984564031775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/3057587984564031775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/confederate-flag.html' title='The Confederate Flag'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-7421742421596112093</id><published>2008-01-10T13:06:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T13:21:49.179-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Al Sharpton</title><content type='html'>Yes, this a controversial post that I hope one day inspires many comments. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never in my life have I so thoroughly hated a person's viewpoint. I can't say that I hate him b/c I've never met him, but I hate everything that he stands for. Let's take the most recent event that has provoked him to think that he needs to be in the spotlight...the Tiger Woods comment that the Golf Channel news anchor made about "lynch him in a back alley." Taken out of context, that's a bad thing. Seeing it actually unfold and seeing how she and another anchor were joking about how the upcoming crop of golfers could take the top spot from Tiger, any human being with half a brain would know that it was a joke and bad choice of words or not, but it was all in jest. But then again, it is Al Sharpton that we are talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me take you back a little bit and explain that I was brought up in a racist household. I went to an all white school and was taught throughout my life that black people = bad people. It was until I started working at McDonald's at the age of 16 and going to LSU at the age of 18 that I was finally able to form my own opinions of people. I used to use the "N" word, and I must be honest and in bouts of anger it slips out occasionally. But let me also say that the "N" word, to me, does not identify a specific color of people, but rather a lifestyle choice. When I was younger I knew without a doubt that I could never have any black friends or invite black kids to my house b/c that was a sure way to get disowned. Fast forward to now, and I LAUGH at how I was brought up and could not even imagine teaching those things to MY kids. Some of my oldest son's best friends are black, or a mix of races, and I don't see them or their parents as anything but friends. Now, if he ever brought a black kid home that was a drug dealer we would have problems. Alternatively, the same thing would happen if it was a white kid, or a Hispanic kid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY, I think Al Sharpton is a jerk. Tiger Woods had no problems with the anchor that said this and knew that it was only in jest. Sharpton immediately took offense with the word "lynch". Let me tell you what dictionary.com says about "lynch": &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;lynch &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;verb &lt;br /&gt;kill without legal sanction; "The blood-thirsty mob lynched the alleged killer of the child"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now. Where in that definition does one determine that the word "lynch" is a strictly racial term that inspires the white man to do great harm to the black man? (That's not a rhetorical question...someone needs to answer me!) Furthermore, does Sharpton really need to make the rounds on CNN, MSNBC, FoxNews and everywhere else to call for this lady's firing from the network. No. But he has, and here I am blogging about him, so maybe he has served his purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, for the record, I think that Al Sharpton is one of the BIGGEST racist people I have ever known. Let that marinate on your brain and stew awhile.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-7421742421596112093?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/7421742421596112093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=7421742421596112093' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7421742421596112093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/7421742421596112093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/al-sharpton.html' title='Al Sharpton'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2884994210384499917.post-8600209709887849386</id><published>2008-01-10T12:30:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T12:32:12.486-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Presidential match</title><content type='html'>I just took this quiz that I found online. As I predicted, my views are a mix of democrat/republican. I don't lean strong on either side.....here are my results. Interestingly enough, my top "match" is a man that I have never heard of :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;65% &lt;span style="color: #f00;"&gt;Tom Tancredo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63% &lt;span style="color: #00f;"&gt;Hillary Clinton&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62% &lt;span style="color: #f00;"&gt;Rudy Giuliani&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;62% &lt;span style="color: #00f;"&gt;John Edwards&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61% &lt;span style="color: #f00;"&gt;Mitt Romney&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60% &lt;span style="color: #00f;"&gt;Barack Obama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60% &lt;span style="color: #00f;"&gt;Bill Richardson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;59% &lt;span style="color: #f00;"&gt;John McCain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;58% &lt;span style="color: #00f;"&gt;Joe Biden&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57% &lt;span style="color: #00f;"&gt;Chris Dodd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;57% &lt;span style="color: #f00;"&gt;Fred Thompson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52% &lt;span style="color: #f00;"&gt;Mike Huckabee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42% &lt;span style="color: #00f;"&gt;Mike Gravel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41% &lt;span style="color: #f00;"&gt;Ron Paul&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35% &lt;span style="color: #00f;"&gt;Dennis Kucinich&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.gotoquiz.com/candidates/2008-quiz.html"&gt;2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-8600209709887849386?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/8600209709887849386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=8600209709887849386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/8600209709887849386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/8600209709887849386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/presidential-match.html' title='Presidential match'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-4120478231601282666</id><published>2008-01-10T09:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T09:48:29.322-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Are our Parents REALLY good examples????</title><content type='html'>Rewind about a week ago....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is what went down in my house. Keith and I were laying down playing Grand Theft Auto (yes, we are juvenile) when we kept failing one particular mission and I threw the controller across the room (hopefully my 11 year old was not peeking in) and turned the XBox off. There was a commercial on for Taco Bell...the one where wife is pregnant and wants something crunchy....and chewy....and cheesy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I looked over at Keith and asked him why he never went get me stuff I was craving. He advised that my daddy never went get my mom anything when she was pregnant and they are still married 32 years later so he figured that it works. I looked him increduously wondering how he knew what my parental units did when they were young and having babies....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast Forward a couple weeks later....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're at my grandma's house for her birthday supper and the commercial comes on again. My parents are there this time, so Keith brings up our conversation and his thought processes. My mom said that my dad actually did go get her something one time when she was pregnant for DJ...she was craving a crab burger and banana shake from Betta Burger in Lutcher (aside: Yuck!!) and he went pick it up for her. Keith then looks at me and says, "If you had asked for the same thing from the same place then I would have gone for you." I promptly reminded him that my dad also hands over his paycheck to my mom....so when was he going to start that practice????  I'm still awaiting his response....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-4120478231601282666?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/4120478231601282666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=4120478231601282666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4120478231601282666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4120478231601282666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/are-our-parents-really-good-examples.html' title='Are our Parents REALLY good examples????'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-5269749524609819925</id><published>2008-01-04T08:58:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T08:59:48.272-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2007 Pulitzer Prize Winner</title><content type='html'>I saw this today and it is amazing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sacbee.com/static/newsroom/swf/april07/mother/?="&gt;http://www.sacbee.com/static/newsroom/swf/april07/mother/?=&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click Autoshow on the righthand corner. This is simply 21 pictures one photographer took. Look at what an amazing (yet very sad) story it tells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch it the first time on Autoshow. Then turn the captions on and look at each one individually. Things like this make our own problems seem trivial.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-5269749524609819925?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/5269749524609819925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=5269749524609819925' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5269749524609819925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5269749524609819925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/2007-pulitzer-prize-winner.html' title='2007 Pulitzer Prize Winner'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-4710950827556311757</id><published>2008-01-03T09:32:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T09:39:59.828-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions</title><content type='html'>I'm trying a new approach. Instead of picking a specific goal for this year, I am broadening my scope. Maybe this year I will be successful. For instance, here is my list...which I reserve the right to add, delete and change throughout the year :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Work towards becoming financially independant.&lt;br /&gt;2. Keep up with monthly budget.&lt;br /&gt;3. Plan meals out for the week and decrease the amount of times that we eat out.&lt;br /&gt;4. Spend more quality time with the kids...more park dates, movies, etc.&lt;br /&gt;5. Make a chore chart for everyone in the house and STICK TO IT.&lt;br /&gt;6. Exercise more.&lt;br /&gt;7. Eat right and make more conscious decisions of what I eat.&lt;br /&gt;8. Bring more leftovers for lunch and limit my lunch spendings to $20/week.&lt;br /&gt;9. Make time to read more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is just a start. Hopefully, with a little practice and determination I could maintain most of these goals throughout the year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-4710950827556311757?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/4710950827556311757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=4710950827556311757' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4710950827556311757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4710950827556311757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/resolutions.html' title='Resolutions'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-4861375681046233127</id><published>2008-01-03T09:22:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-03T09:32:32.068-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmasings</title><content type='html'>Christmas was wild. Crazy. Just the way I like it. We had Santa, we had eggnog, we had present debates, we had dogs sitting back just waiting to tear after the leftover wrapping paper on the floor. It was just what I have always imagined Christmas morning to be like in my own home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to church on Christmas Eve, before heading out to the bonfires. That was the smartest thing we've done in a long time. My mom likes us to go as a family. Which is fine. Not a problem at all for me. UNLESS IT'S AT 9:00 AM ON CHRISTMAS MORNING. So I put my foot down this year (I seem to be doing more of that, but that's another post all together) and insisted that if she wanted us and her grandkids to be at church at the same time then we had to go on Christmas Eve. There's nothing worse than waking up on Christmas morning hungover from the night before, cursing Santa for bringing the loudest most obnoxious toys he could find (haha), and having to tell the kids to put down the gifts because it's time to get ready for church. This year, they blissfully played with all the gifts and Santa was a HUGE hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to the Santa debate. I wrapped all the Santa presents on Christmas Eve. Keith and I discussed why I was wrapping the presents. Well, because it extends the surprise. And the thrill of being able to tear open into beautifully wrapped presents is part of the whole Christmas event. He said that Santa should unbox, unwrap and assemble every gift there is and put them under the tree. Now, we've never had the Santa debate. We both grew up with Santa, we both found out that he wasn't "real", but neither of us came away from that experience any worse off or liking our parents any less. Now, the Tooth Fairy...well, that was a different story for me :)  So we play Santa. And we pretend that he's a real person. And we elaborately answer the questions of how a fat man can come down the chimney and why the fire doesn't burn him, and how can he make it all over the world in one night. And how come they never get to see him? To me, it's like Harry Potter and that whole magical world. Even as an adult, I know that's not real but it's fun. It's fun to believe that really happens and it's fun to be taken away into that magical world. For a kid, it's fun to believe that there really is such a thing as Santa, and Rudolph, and Frosty the Snowman. And when you find out that he's not "real", it becomes fun to help lay out the presents, and even as an adult I still get that tingling when I wake up, wondering what Santa put under the tree for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, so we wrapped the presents and tortuously made the kids go around the room opening one gift at a time. Nic thought that he was always the next person in line though. So he was done considerably sooner than Bren and Des.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the best gift of the day? The hand thingys that stick to the wall when you throw them. $1 for a pack of 2 at the Dollar Store. Who knew?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-4861375681046233127?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/4861375681046233127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=4861375681046233127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4861375681046233127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/4861375681046233127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2008/01/christmasings.html' title='Christmasings'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-5021231552474669166</id><published>2007-12-18T09:49:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-18T09:58:42.839-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='religion; Christmas'/><title type='text'>Barbara Walters and the Christmas debate</title><content type='html'>Let me start this off by saying that I grew up wanting to be Barbara Walters. I even majored in Mass Comm thinking that I would be the next great journalist. Obviously, that didn't work out the way I planned....but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On &lt;em&gt;The View&lt;/em&gt; she started going off because she received a Christmas card from the President of the United States (I sure wouldn't mind receiving one!). In this particular card, there was a Bible verse. Her thoughts was that the President should not be sending out cards of this nature. What about the athiest? What about the Muslims? What about those people that don't celebrate Christmas? You know what I say....screw 'em.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, just because he is the President of the United States is he supposed to hide the fact that he is a Christian? Does being in that position mean that he has to hide his beliefs and feelings? More importantly, does being the President of the United States mean that you have to give up all of you First Amendment rights?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I'm not all for pushing your beliefs on someone else. I am Catholic. My husband is Baptist. He does not for the LIFE of him understand what I get out of going to church at a Catholic Church (sometimes I have to agree with him, but we won't ever let him know that!). We have spirited debates about the issue. We offer thoughts and insights that other has not thought of. But we don't force our opinions on people outside of our marriage. When the Jehovah Witnesses come knocking at my door I politely tell them that I appreciate their belief in their religion, but I do not wish to convert at this time. They thank me and move on to the next house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I think I have a point somewhere in here. Oh yeah, here it is. Why do we hear negative thoughts about people who promote Christianity, but we never hear negative things about those that are pushing atheism on others? Why must the millions of people in this country bow down and roll out the red carpet for the 14% (or whatever number, I think that's what I remember hearing but I could be wrong) that are not Christians? What about the rest of us? Where do we fall in the mix?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-5021231552474669166?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/5021231552474669166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=5021231552474669166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5021231552474669166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5021231552474669166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2007/12/barbara-walters-and-christmas-debate.html' title='Barbara Walters and the Christmas debate'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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-2884994210384499917.post-5415926095435665569</id><published>2007-11-19T08:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T08:18:28.755-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Entry...</title><content type='html'>A Little About Me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just need a place to put down some random thoughts.  I have a myspace page, but that just seems to "public" for me. I work downtown for a law firm and have an hour drive to work and back home everyday. So that puts me on the road for 2 hours everyday with all the time in the world to THINK. So I come up with some pretty random stuff and alot of times I wish I had someone to bounce ideas off of. I have friends with blogs, and I like to read and comment on other blogs, so I figured that I would start my own!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoy spirited debates and I like bringing up topics that spark emotion in people. I enjoy seeing another view point on subjects and although I don't always change my mind, I do start thinking of things in a different way sometimes. I was brought up in a small town with very narrow minded thought processes. I am slowly but surely breaking away from those processes and branching out, but I still have some work to do on that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been married for almost 8 years and have 3 kids. I will mostly refer to them as Bren (11 year old boy), Des (8 year old girl) and Nic (4 year old boy). These kids are the center of my universe and I spend almost all of my free time chasing them around doing the things they love. People sometimes ask me how I do it...and my only response is that my house stays messy. Some people spend most of their free time cleaning while I spend most of mine hanging out with the kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So sit back, relax and enjoy this ride with me. I don't think I will be posting everyday, but I will post often and usually they will be long. Looking for a good debate? I have TONS of topics that I've written down to talk about!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2884994210384499917-5415926095435665569?l=staccole.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/feeds/5415926095435665569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2884994210384499917&amp;postID=5415926095435665569' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5415926095435665569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2884994210384499917/posts/default/5415926095435665569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://staccole.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-first-entry.html' title='My First Entry...'/><author><name>Stac Cole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00987598916230715360</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>
