<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Sun, 08 Nov 2009 05:43:34 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Triple Threat</title><description>Three Sisters Dishing about Life, Love, and the Pursuit of a Good Deal</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-1292862684215258652</guid><pubDate>Sun, 02 Aug 2009 13:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-08-02T06:45:50.087-07:00</atom:updated><title>An Ode to Kristy</title><description>I love my dear sister, we all call her Kris. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But don't call her this, 'cause Joel will get pissed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She is oh so sweet, that sister of mine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And she looks like me - Oh YEAH, she is FIIIINE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She's selfless and caring, and good for a joke.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For a smile? She's cheap! McD's Diet Coke.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As kids we fought often, some words were exchanged.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Ghetto booty!" "Jello jigglers!", were just two nicknames.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But as we got older, one major thing changed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She saw me as sweet, and not so deranged.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We soon became friends, and no longer fought.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She went on to teach, wed a guy who is HAWT.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Motherhood suits her, she's patient and fair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She passed on her humor, her infamous hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Devoted and loyal, defines her so well.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The old hanger story? Don't worry... I won't tell. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Changed though we are, she's become quite the gal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love my sis, Kristy, she's my very best pal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365119538766848578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SnS7y320okI/AAAAAAAAAEc/gAmseFnUEcY/s320/003.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365119542656420546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SnS7zGWKysI/AAAAAAAAAEk/PVbrhZM0Grw/s320/kristy" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365119545605936018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SnS7zRVY05I/AAAAAAAAAEs/6-9dEdmQEoU/s320/kristy2" border="0" /&gt;Happy Birthday, Kristy! We love you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&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/807061023326957573-1292862684215258652?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2009/08/ode-to-kristy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SnS7y320okI/AAAAAAAAAEc/gAmseFnUEcY/s72-c/003.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-2725616415713614594</guid><pubDate>Fri, 10 Jul 2009 14:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-10T07:36:13.809-07:00</atom:updated><title>Reason No. 213 I Love Memes...</title><description>...people don't bother me at work while I'm doing them - I must have a serious look of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;concentration&lt;/span&gt; on my face. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my chest-size. . .is not to be taken for granted. I say this because of my numerous friends who've nursed one or several babies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my job. . .is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sucky&lt;/span&gt;. Wait, be positive! Okay - is only a temporary situation that will provide me with financial security when it comes time to pursue my "dream job." (Better?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that when I’m driving. . .I zone out. Kind of a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that I need. . .water. Like, I drink over 120 ounces a day. I literally get cranky when I don't have it! (although I pee much less)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come that realize that I have lost. . .my mind? No, I've lost my patience with people who are constantly complaining about something, but yet refuse to do anything to change the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that I hate it when. . .people tailgate me. Although not so bad if number 3 (above) is happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that if I’m drunk. . .I have diarrhea of the mouth. If you want to know my secrets, bring me some Jose!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that money…if in excess, often makes people unhappy, because they are always wanting the next best thing...and they are never satisfied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that certain people. . .aren't in my life anymore because they made me feel bad. If they make you feel bad, why be friends with them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that I’ll always. . .be ultra-sensitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my sibling(s). . .are my best friends, just like mom said they'd be (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;darnit&lt;/span&gt;, she's right again).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my mom…loves to nag only because she loves me.  And I'm very thankful she does.  :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my cell phone. . .needs to be with me at all times. Or I feel naked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that when I woke up this morning. . .I was SO GLAD it was Friday. 2 days free from work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that last night before I went to sleep. . .I was only thinking about sleeping in on Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that right now I am thinking. . .gosh I love these memes. People think I'm working!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my dad. . .is probably the best guy I've ever come across in my life. Ever. And I'm still in awe that I deserve for a man that pure and good to be my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that when I get on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt;. . .I laugh at my friend Burke who posts updates seriously every 1/2 hour or so.  Dude.  It's called "Twitter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that today. . .is awesome because it's Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that tonight. . .I will play Merry Maid and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;chillax&lt;/span&gt; with my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;sistahs&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that tomorrow. . .I will get to see my grandma and the rest of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;fam&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that I really want to. . .find a rewarding, fulfilling job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that the person mostly likely to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;repost&lt;/span&gt; this is. . .not sure about this one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that life. . .is about how you look at things. The same &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;sucky&lt;/span&gt; thing can happen to two different people, yet they can react in complete opposite ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that this weekend. . .I will be jealous as Kristy and Joel leave for my favorite place (in the U.S.) on Sunday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; realized the best music to listen to when I am upset. . .is currently "Flightless Bird, American Mouth" by Iron &amp;amp; Wine (from the "Twilight" soundtrack). Or Britney Spears in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my friends. . . are all really funny! Almost as funny as me. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;hahaha&lt;/span&gt; j/k. We tie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that this year. . .is going to bring about a lot of change! (NOT in the Cher's daughter kinda way).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my exes. . .were kind of jerks, but I don't hate. They were fun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that maybe I should. . .get back to work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that I love. . .my family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that I don’t understand. . .why bad things happen to good people. I know everything happens for a reason, but it's just upsetting when something tragic happens to someone very loving and kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize my past. . .involved LOTS of mistakes, from which I am still learning everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that parties. . .are a time to indulge, but not to the point of being sick (that goes for sweets AND, um, beer).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that I’m totally terrified. . .of flying. But this won't stop me from doing it...that would mean giving up travel!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; come to realize that my life. . .is wonderful and I am very blessed. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-2725616415713614594?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2009/07/reason-no-213-i-love-memes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-3458971652611384087</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 Jun 2009 03:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-05T10:46:24.842-07:00</atom:updated><title>Happy Birthday, Holly!!</title><description>Today we celebrated our little big sister's birthday. No, that wasn't a typo. I always call Holly my little "big" sister since she's taller than me. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are 10 things we love about Holly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Holly is such a hard worker! She always has several jobs--whether it be teaching or working at Marsh, she is always tutoring and/or babysitting on her "time off." She makes me look pretty lazy! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Holly loves to exercise and stay healthy. She is always trying some crazy new workout regime, but is consistent in that she is always wanting to do something. Just as in her job, she puts 100% of herself into her workouts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Holly has run 3 marathons--including the Boston Marathon, which she qualified for by running 26.2 miles in 3 hours and 35 minutes or something crazy like that. She rocks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Holly loves kids...and they love her! Of course our kids are crazy about their Aunt Hawa, but even the kids she babysits for or used to teach just adore her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Holly once snuck into the sacristy at my grandparents' church and helped herself to some Communion hosts, before she had even gone through First Communion. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised she didn't get ahold of the wine...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Holly loves to help other people--especially her friends and family. I don't know how many times she has come to help us stain our decks, paint rooms in our houses, watch our kids, get water out of our basements--oh, wait--that was just my basement. (Thanks, Holly!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) Holly loves to cook and bake. Over the past several years, she has acquired quite an extensive recipe collection. She is constantly searching for and finding new recipes and trying them out on the family. Of course we're happy to reap the benefits of that one! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) Holly spent the first half of her life with straight hair. She got a perm when she was 13 or 14 and the curl just never went away. Now THAT's a permanent perm! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Holly is a loyal friend/sister. She has always been there to help me through rough patches in my life, and is always there to listen to me or give advice. I also say she is loyal because she is very defensive of her family and would do anything for any one of us. Well, except maybe Joel. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Holly loves to laugh and to make other people laugh. We are always quoting our favorite lines from "Airplane" and can laugh about the same line over and over again. ("A hospital? What is it?" "It's a large building with doctors who treat patients. But that's not important right now.") She has great one-liners and will even laugh at herself--which is just too cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343676778629440194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNt9i2IsI/AAAAAAAADPo/gXQgxLQI4iM/s320/holly7.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The sisters at one of my baby showers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiPOgR2FPI/AAAAAAAADQA/CHBoZ1rM8bg/s1600-h/Holly3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343678437220816114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiPOgR2FPI/AAAAAAAADQA/CHBoZ1rM8bg/s320/Holly3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343676773121486658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNtpBpb0I/AAAAAAAADPg/rnzMK5PhBTE/s320/holly8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Holly and Kelly on vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNuC7UPrI/AAAAAAAADP4/-gmoGiOuvOw/s1600-h/holly5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343676780074254002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNuC7UPrI/AAAAAAAADP4/-gmoGiOuvOw/s320/holly5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Holly with Baby Clare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNuDBmqjI/AAAAAAAADPw/SiKS64s4omU/s1600-h/holly6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343676780100626994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNuDBmqjI/AAAAAAAADPw/SiKS64s4omU/s320/holly6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Reese and Ryan with Aunt Holly at a wedding in 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNtkAdTfI/AAAAAAAADPY/m3OIbgrYzmM/s1600-h/holly9.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343676771774320114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNtkAdTfI/AAAAAAAADPY/m3OIbgrYzmM/s320/holly9.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We love you, Holland!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&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/807061023326957573-3458971652611384087?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2009/06/happy-birthday-holly.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (IUgirl78)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SiiNt9i2IsI/AAAAAAAADPo/gXQgxLQI4iM/s72-c/holly7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-8545917291530624159</guid><pubDate>Thu, 07 May 2009 03:36:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-06T21:16:10.318-07:00</atom:updated><title>Done with Week 1!</title><description>&lt;p align="left"&gt;Today was my first weigh-in with the &lt;a href="http://shrinkingjeans.net/"&gt;Sisterhood&lt;/a&gt;, and I lost 4 pounds!  Although there is a little part of me that thinks I could have done better, I am pretty happy with my week.  I worked out everyday and ate fairly well.  I decided that week one I wanted to focus on getting my workouts in and making healthy food choices.  I tried to eat an appropriate number of calories, but there was one night when I was still hungry and had a bowl of cereal (it was Raisin Bran, so that's not too bad, right?).  Keith and I also had a date night for the first time in a while.  We went to Bonefish Grill and I ordered fish with a glass of wine.  We also split ice cream later.  I know I ate more than I should have, but it's not like we get date nights that often!  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;This week I'm going to continue to focus on my workouts, which have included &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jillian-Michaels-30-Day-Shred/dp/B00127RAJY"&gt;Shredding&lt;/a&gt; every day as well as another form of cardio most days.  This past Saturday I did not Shred since we took an hour-and-a-half-long hike, did yardwork during naptime (lots of digging!), and I cleaned the house from top to bottom later that afternoon.  There was just no way I could Shred!  I did my video first thing this morning for the first time.  I've been doing it during naptime or right after the girls go to bed, but I wanted to see how I felt doing it in the morning.  The girls even joined me for the warm-up, then went back to reading their books:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-3c293cc0b7e82160" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAKXn9zyzXTyW6NoE_4ojujq3e8UrQFDcL5ckgLrCq7veQDga8JvntKwEeGeJYywqGniRIpAulrrkkXfef7MDiv-7m7D9E2qCDR2S9NIW43DN7kVkYlUTfMlBltbDlLBiTisHybWtfQxwX5NWItrakTcOLAAWAXeXMvy74ScMoywkLU6dTQKCiU4rN4nnZ2Zx0fMt8UQp5EduBUZ4-nDsQyksq-ZsZT8EkEHH5LE8WDON%26sigh%3Do-qGI9wtoyGDClQXf-hld0sBynE%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3c293cc0b7e82160%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DWbPeWuIdlLylM7tVD6lKq5fQr8Q&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/videoplayer.swf?videoUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvp.video.google.com%2Fvideodownload%3Fversion%3D0%26secureurl%3DqAAAAKXn9zyzXTyW6NoE_4ojujq3e8UrQFDcL5ckgLrCq7veQDga8JvntKwEeGeJYywqGniRIpAulrrkkXfef7MDiv-7m7D9E2qCDR2S9NIW43DN7kVkYlUTfMlBltbDlLBiTisHybWtfQxwX5NWItrakTcOLAAWAXeXMvy74ScMoywkLU6dTQKCiU4rN4nnZ2Zx0fMt8UQp5EduBUZ4-nDsQyksq-ZsZT8EkEHH5LE8WDON%26sigh%3Do-qGI9wtoyGDClQXf-hld0sBynE%26begin%3D0%26len%3D86400000%26docid%3D0&amp;amp;nogvlm=1&amp;amp;thumbnailUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fvideo.google.com%2FThumbnailServer2%3Fapp%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D3c293cc0b7e82160%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw320%26sigh%3DWbPeWuIdlLylM7tVD6lKq5fQr8Q&amp;amp;messagesUrl=video.google.com%2FFlashUiStrings.xlb%3Fframe%3Dflashstrings%26hl%3Den" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;My second goal for the week is to only eat one serving per day of whatever I'm eating.  For example, I'm guilty of eating something and wanting another helping that I don't need.  So in order to help balance out my diet and allow room for healthier foods, I'm only going to have one serving per food per day.  So even though I'd love that second serving of pretzels, I will have to pass.  And if that serving of casserole doesn't fill me up, then I will need to load up on the broccoli.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Hopefully I will continue to see results!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-8545917291530624159?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><enclosure type='video/mp4' url='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=3c293cc0b7e82160&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2009/05/done-with-week-1.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-2819125309338482882</guid><pubDate>Thu, 30 Apr 2009 04:13:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-29T21:30:03.805-07:00</atom:updated><title>Are you Shredding?</title><description>Those of you who know me know that for the past year and a half I've dealt with back pain, back surgery, and rehab from the surgery. With two small children to care for it has not been an easy road. The past two months I have felt awesome, but at the back of my mind I've had this worry that I am going to do something to hurt myself again. I know with time I will get over it (and hopefully &lt;em&gt;won't&lt;/em&gt; hurt myself), but for now everything is still fresh in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I've decided to do something about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past year and a half I've had pain, but I've also had excuses: my back hurts, I'm too tired, I should really rest, I have two little kids who drain my energy (not to mention I need to catch up on my shows, and waste an hour on the computer, and so on). The list of excuses is endless. Now don't get me wrong- I have exercised, but not regularly and not at the intensity that I would like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before kids I was a very active person, working out most days and planning exercise into my weekend activities. When we lived in Rhode Island one of my favorite things to do was head down to Beavertail, hike on the rocks, then chill out with a good book. In the summers I would hit the gym for 90 minutes before heading to the beach. I know, life was rough, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/Sfkm9j4QN7I/AAAAAAAAACM/WvcSHo0YVXw/s1600-h/Beavertail%2520Lighthouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330334473014753202" style="WIDTH: 270px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/Sfkm9j4QN7I/AAAAAAAAACM/WvcSHo0YVXw/s320/Beavertail%2520Lighthouse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Beavertail&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;When we moved back to Indiana I was so busy settling into our new house that I didn't make time for exercise. When our daughters came along fairly close together it was difficult to find time to workout, except for late at night. Again, though, it was never a regular activity.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;But...things have changed.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I've decided that this is &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; year. The year I get my body back. The year I get strong. The year I build my ab strength so I won't have to worry about hurting my back as much. It is my year, I tell you.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I started&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00127RAJY"&gt; shredding&lt;/a&gt; three days ago. If you are looking for a good, quick (27 minutes), cheap ($9) exercise video, then you need to get this one. It is hard, but awesome. I finally feel strong again- after only three days! I know it is just the beginning, but it is a start. I've also joined the &lt;a href="http://shrinkingjeans.net/"&gt;Sisterhood&lt;/a&gt; and am really excited about it. I know that experiencing my journey to better health with others out there is probably what will motivate me the most. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I've started, I'm shredding, and I can't wait to see how quickly my jeans shrink! Stay tuned...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-2819125309338482882?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2009/04/are-you-shredding.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/Sfkm9j4QN7I/AAAAAAAAACM/WvcSHo0YVXw/s72-c/Beavertail%2520Lighthouse.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-6248635238474845425</guid><pubDate>Fri, 16 Jan 2009 05:13:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-16T04:45:45.948-08:00</atom:updated><title>I need this!</title><description>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SXAX14iTr9I/AAAAAAAAAB8/RB5g2iHKVe8/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291755776637120466" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SXAX14iTr9I/AAAAAAAAAB8/RB5g2iHKVe8/s320/untitled.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;I have seen this advertised on TV and at first thought it was really dorky- a blanket with sleeves!?! However, since my computer is saying it is -8 outside right now I am no longer thinking this is a dorky product. It is a very useful product- you can even walk around with it on! Plus, it comes with a handy book light for FREE. I think I need to order one.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-6248635238474845425?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2009/01/i-need-this.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SXAX14iTr9I/AAAAAAAAAB8/RB5g2iHKVe8/s72-c/untitled.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-5947870628560577013</guid><pubDate>Wed, 14 Jan 2009 05:35:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-13T21:45:15.427-08:00</atom:updated><title>Best Job Ever?</title><description>I was perusing Yahoo! tonight and came across &lt;a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20090113/od_afp/lifestyleaustraliatourismoffbeat_20090113032028"&gt;this article&lt;/a&gt; on the best job in the world.  For 6 months, you live on an island in Australia and basically sell it to tourists- all for a salary equivalent to $100,000 US dollars.  Not too bad, huh?  Now I'm not the type of person who loves to rough it so this may not be the best job for me, but considering the length of employment and the salary I could probably learn to deal with it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I was 7 I wanted to be a teacher- it was my "best job ever."  After teaching for 9 years I still have fond memories, but the longer I'm away from it the more I think I may be called to do something different when it is time to go back to work.  It may be education-related, or may be completely unrelated.  Here are some recent thoughts I've had:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  A preschool teacher (2-yr-olds).  This would be once my babies are bigger, and I wish they were babies again.  The upside?  No conferences.  The downside?  More poop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  The Director of Education Scheduling at Clowes Memorial Hall.  This is not the official title, but I read about this job recently in the paper.  Basically you'd be in charge of scheduling shows for school-aged children, and doing the research behind the standards taught in the shows.  I think.  It sounds kind of cool, though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Start my own business.  Right now I have no idea what that would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Go back to school.  I don't know what for, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily I (think I) have plenty of time to figure out what to do from here since I'm not planning on going back to work anytime soon.  Right now my best job is being a wife and mother, but if I had to pick an actual paying job I don't know what my best job would be.  What would YOUR best job be?  Maybe you can give me inspiration.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-5947870628560577013?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2009/01/best-job-ever.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-5006363948550007703</guid><pubDate>Sat, 13 Dec 2008 22:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-13T15:34:29.541-08:00</atom:updated><title>10 Things</title><description>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279408944968597698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SUQ6dsTfgMI/AAAAAAAAADw/9YNQgdbTm5w/s320/12.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SUQ6d9Em2OI/AAAAAAAAAEA/cNWHNxEvgD4/s1600-h/37.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279408949469567202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SUQ6d9Em2OI/AAAAAAAAAEA/cNWHNxEvgD4/s320/37.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SUQ6dPH0UqI/AAAAAAAAADo/8BenCXiJ-H4/s1600-h/kel10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279408937135002274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 195px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SUQ6dPH0UqI/AAAAAAAAADo/8BenCXiJ-H4/s320/kel10.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279408953551389746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SUQ6eMRyhDI/AAAAAAAAAEI/O4FeScXAElk/s320/DSCN1925.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday my oldest (but NOT old) sister celebrated her birthday. I cannot begin to express how grateful and blessed I am to be best friends with my 2 sisters. Not only are they the people I can call at any time of day or night (and have!), but they are truly amazing. I thought I would list a few (okay...ten) things about Kelly that you may or may not know. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Kelly loves to be busy. I think all of us girls are this way. Don't get me wrong....we love our nights on the couch watching TV. But at any given time you can be sure we probably have at least 46 projects in the making.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Kelly loves music. Growing up, Kristy and I would always sing while she played the piano. I have great memories of the music from the piano filling our whole house. And it also was quite convenient when we would play church. (Plus, I got to eat more bread and drink more "wine" while she was playing the Communion song).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Kelly is an amazing teacher. Although she no longer teaches at a school, she teaches her daughters each and every day. I tend to think "once a teacher, always a teacher" - at least the good ones. And to me, Kelly will always be a teacher.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Kelly is very loyal. As a friend, as a sister, as a wife, as a daughter....she is very committed to those she loves. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Kelly is a Handy M&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;anny&lt;/span&gt;. She has always been the one to put furniture together (successfully), decorate beautifully, and to re-do every single room in her house. :-) She get it from her mama. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Kelly has black hair. Just kidding. But she hates it when I say that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Kelly is very sensitive. I am, too, and I see it as a very positive thing. She is very moved by the things that she sees that might not phase others. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Kelly is one of the best mothers I know. She is patient, kind, caring, and nurturing, yet she also has so much FUN with her girls. She truly was born to be a mother, as was Kristy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Kelly loves to help others. I can be the first to attest to this. There have been a couple times when Kelly has received a phone call from me in the middle of the night - one of those times when Grace was only a few months old. And you know what? Kelly got out of bed to help me. (*Waves to Keith* - thank you, too, Keith!) I will never, EVER forget her generosity on that night, or the generosity she continues to show to all of her loved ones.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Kelly loves, and is very loved. With her back surgery last weekend, you could not believe how many friends and family members (esp. a gorgeous younger sister....*thanks, Kristy!*) were there to help in whatever way they could. I think we all know that Kelly would have done the same, if not more, for any of us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are just a few things about Kelly that make me proud to call her my sister and my best friend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We love you, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kel&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-5006363948550007703?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/12/10-things.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SUQ6dsTfgMI/AAAAAAAAADw/9YNQgdbTm5w/s72-c/12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-7620780515813410372</guid><pubDate>Mon, 24 Nov 2008 20:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-24T10:46:41.473-08:00</atom:updated><title>Mi casa es su casa</title><description>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270965154054310418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY64X7eihI/AAAAAAAAACw/bXy4yq5tyls/s320/Holly+House.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've officially been in my house for 6 weeks (well, 4 with my heat being broken the past 2 weeks). I thought I'd let you peek inside - you know, in a completely non-stalkerish way. I don't have pictures of the upstairs yet, but here is the downstairs and outside...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY65EZFuJI/AAAAAAAAADI/9bUTjsrbUoo/s1600-h/Holly2+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270965165989673106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY65EZFuJI/AAAAAAAAADI/9bUTjsrbUoo/s320/Holly2+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;La cucina.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY646gWqhI/AAAAAAAAADA/sqNOBr4GPO8/s1600-h/Holly2+006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270965163335789074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY646gWqhI/AAAAAAAAADA/sqNOBr4GPO8/s320/Holly2+006.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Dining Room&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm working on furniture, although the hydrangea plant in the corner is lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY64ovS7YI/AAAAAAAAAC4/ihGcWOXW2jg/s1600-h/Holly2+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270965158566620546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY64ovS7YI/AAAAAAAAAC4/ihGcWOXW2jg/s320/Holly2+007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Living Room&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270965972887882242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY7oCUnSgI/AAAAAAAAADg/Sdwi8gPH3cQ/s320/Holly2+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;strong&gt; Back of the house&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270965173130285314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 311px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY65e_i0QI/AAAAAAAAADQ/W7e3ciljkd4/s320/Holly2+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really wanted a decent sized backyard, which was hard to find in my price range. But this yard is actually pretty big - big enough to have all those wild, raging parties, you know. It had NO PLANTS whatsoever (unless you include over 342 types of weeds), so I had those two trees planted and - if you can squint - I planted the 4 dogwood bushes back there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now...this was my first attempt in ever planting something other than flowers. It was fairly cold that day (maybe 50 degrees and cloudy), and the shovel wouldn't break ground. So I found this tool in my garage....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270965971690060562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY7n93B-xI/AAAAAAAAADY/tZD1EFNkLro/s320/Holly2+005.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;...and used it to plant 5 1/2 bushes. I'm sure it was a hilarious sight to see. Thanks to my dad who so graciously planted the 1 1/2 I had left. :-)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-7620780515813410372?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/11/mi-casa-es-su-casa.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SSY64X7eihI/AAAAAAAAACw/bXy4yq5tyls/s72-c/Holly+House.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>10</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-6768088285758337072</guid><pubDate>Fri, 21 Nov 2008 18:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-21T11:03:27.611-08:00</atom:updated><title>Move Over, Pioneer Woman...</title><description>...because I can cook, too! &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lunch time has always been one of the most difficult meals for me. I get home around 12:15-12:30 p.m. and am starving by then--considering the fact that I eat breakfast at 6:30 a.m. So when I want to eat, I want to eat. As many of my friends and family members know, I've been eating turkey sandwiches for lunch for the past 12 years or so and am officially tired of them now. (Gasp!) I recently discovered an old friend of mine:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271181544499764002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SSb_r9KA2yI/AAAAAAAACVc/zeVslwpjOC8/s320/DSC_0357.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;div align="center"&gt;The Snackster&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Snackster and I go way back to grade school. (Don't worry--this isn't the original Snackster. I've had to replace it since then.) I was home from school one day because I was sick and spent most of the day watching an informercial on The Snackmaster. My mom came home from work that evening and I told her all about this product and how you can make pancakes, egg McMuffins, mini-pizzas, and tuna pockets. Her response was, "But you don't even &lt;em&gt;like&lt;/em&gt; egg McMuffins or tuna!" So obviously I didn't have her sold on the product at that point. Luckily for me, a generic version of the Snackmaster came out in the stores a few months later, and she let me buy it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Snackster even came with me to my college dorm room, where I made many mini-pizzas. In fact, when I came back during Christmas break for Rush (to join a sorority), the cafeterias were closed for a whole week. I remember taking orders from girls down the hall and making a bunch of pizzas so we didn't have to call a taxi and go out to eat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I know I'm no Pioneer Woman, but I sure can cook up a mean mini-pizza!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271181545873884354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SSb_sCRoRMI/AAAAAAAACVk/ruqBQn_SsAw/s320/DSC_0356.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271181550809215650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SSb_sUqTcqI/AAAAAAAACVs/JsekLrk_ku4/s320/DSC_0359.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;Lunch is ready!  (Eat your heart out, Pioneer Woman.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-6768088285758337072?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/11/move-over-pioneer-woman.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (IUgirl78)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SSb_r9KA2yI/AAAAAAAACVc/zeVslwpjOC8/s72-c/DSC_0357.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-666297147777743205</guid><pubDate>Sat, 06 Sep 2008 03:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-09-05T20:30:10.502-07:00</atom:updated><title>Must-see TV</title><description>I'm in BIG trouble. The fall shows have started, and I am already behind! Although I won't complain that there ARE actually shows to be watched this season, I may have to edit my list of must-see TV. It was helpful this spring when I could go to the Y at night during one of the shows and workout, but since my back is (still!) hurting me the only thing I've been able to do is swim- not conducive for television viewing! SO, this list will probably be reviewed in a few weeks, once even more shows have started. For now here is what I'm watching:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;-&lt;em&gt;90210:  &lt;/em&gt;I just had to watch it.  I'm not sure if I'll keep watching it, but I saw the premiere.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2x7ipmnI/AAAAAAAAABg/7_6xhBw58y4/s1600-h/Blog-90210-spinoff-Cast.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242742778893015666" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2x7ipmnI/AAAAAAAAABg/7_6xhBw58y4/s320/Blog-90210-spinoff-Cast.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;- &lt;em&gt;The Hills&lt;/em&gt;:  Not really sure WHY I watch it, but I guess I'm just living the So Cal life vicariously through these girls.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2x8HZjnI/AAAAAAAAABo/zuvEu6fJje4/s1600-h/hills.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242742779047153266" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2x8HZjnI/AAAAAAAAABo/zuvEu6fJje4/s320/hills.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;- &lt;em&gt;Exiled&lt;/em&gt;:  No comment.  :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;- &lt;em&gt;Janice Dickinson's Modeling Agency&lt;/em&gt;:  Again, no comment.  Come on!  Not ALL the good shows have started yet!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;- &lt;em&gt;America's Next Top Model:&lt;/em&gt;  Gotta love the drama.*&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2yEdbpDI/AAAAAAAAABw/ujQyth8_Yrg/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242742781287048242" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2yEdbpDI/AAAAAAAAABw/ujQyth8_Yrg/s320/images.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here is a list of shows that I can't wait to watch once they start in a few weeks:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;- &lt;em&gt;Dirty Sexy Money*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2xhyvpMI/AAAAAAAAABY/hMcX-vAbCNc/s1600-h/04IXCCA4B8TIDCAPPBU1QCAWYPDN3CAP9GZONCA0UR7ALCA4D6SQ0CA8XM2SHCA9GVBXGCA2JMTS5CAP8YC4YCALOWC6FCATXM5HPCACN1DGFCAN0TDTHCAO6RS7PCADDUORMCA9IJU7YCAIIM5BI.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242742771981198530" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2xhyvpMI/AAAAAAAAABY/hMcX-vAbCNc/s320/04IXCCA4B8TIDCAPPBU1QCAWYPDN3CAP9GZONCA0UR7ALCA4D6SQ0CA8XM2SHCA9GVBXGCA2JMTS5CAP8YC4YCALOWC6FCATXM5HPCACN1DGFCAN0TDTHCAO6RS7PCADDUORMCA9IJU7YCAIIM5BI.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;- &lt;em&gt;Real World/Road Rules Challenge:  The Island&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Real World&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;- The Office**&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Samantha Who?*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Dr. 90210 (starts Monday!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;- The Biggest Loser*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And with that, I think I've listed them all.  The last one sums up pretty much how I feel after listing all of these shows!  You'd think that all I do all day is watch TV, but that is really not the case.  In reality, I don't even catch all of these shows except for my favorites (denoted with *).  I usually watch 20 minutes of a show during naptime and save the rest for the evening.  I suppose that is why I stay up so late!  Luckily I've read a lot this summer, so that counts for something, right?  Bring on the mindless shows!!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Any other good ones I'm missing?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, and by the way- since I DVR all of my shows I do eliminate the commercials.  Can you tell I'm trying to justify this to myself?  :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-666297147777743205?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/09/must-see-tv.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SMH2x7ipmnI/AAAAAAAAABg/7_6xhBw58y4/s72-c/Blog-90210-spinoff-Cast.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-5810735734845390538</guid><pubDate>Tue, 12 Aug 2008 02:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-11T19:53:38.329-07:00</atom:updated><title>Ready or Not...</title><description>&lt;p align="left"&gt;Here they come!  Oh, yes- have you seen it?  They're baaaaaaack.....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SKD6p5HoIjI/AAAAAAAAABQ/oqIzK7oOEwA/s1600-h/katie_holmes_500x375.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233458364618908210" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SKD6p5HoIjI/AAAAAAAAABQ/oqIzK7oOEwA/s320/katie_holmes_500x375.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Rolled/pegged pants.  Yep, the one thing that I thought for SURE would never come in style again.  I was hoping, but I've seen pictures of more than just one celebrity braving these waters.  This is one trend I won't be following!  Is anyone else going to try it?  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-5810735734845390538?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/08/ready-or-not.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SKD6p5HoIjI/AAAAAAAAABQ/oqIzK7oOEwA/s72-c/katie_holmes_500x375.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-5904325370851946530</guid><pubDate>Sat, 02 Aug 2008 04:29:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-01T21:53:51.317-07:00</atom:updated><title>My Name is Zoom, and I Live on the Moon...</title><description>...and I came down to earth, just to sing you this tune!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we were growing up, Kristy and I always loved to play together. We played house, QVC, church, school, Crackel Barrel, wrote songs (and performed them with our airdrums), we were TV anchors...let's just say our resumes were quite impressive by the age of 8. Our relationship changed as we approached High School and sisters were suddenly NOT cool. When I became an "only child" after she went to IU, I absolutely hated it. I actually &lt;strong&gt;missed&lt;/strong&gt; her! That was when I realized what my mom had been telling me my WHOLE life was true: Friends might come and go, but your sisters will be your friends forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristy is an amazing, special, one of a kind person. She is the most compassionate person I know and truly doesn't have an evil bone in her body. Even if someone has mistreated her or disrespected her in some way, you can tell SHE almost feels guilty about it. I know...right??!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristy, thank you for being a shoulder to lean on (and cry on), my best friend, and someone who will always love me for who I am despite the mistakes I might make. (errr....the mistakes I HAVE made). You are one of the best people on this planet, and I know having you in my life has made me a better person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all love you so much. Happy Birthday, girl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Holly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJPlD4-t89I/AAAAAAAAACI/Dmb6v7J99-4/s1600-h/Kristy+006+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229775447305090002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJPlD4-t89I/AAAAAAAAACI/Dmb6v7J99-4/s320/Kristy+006+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJPlEd_izuI/AAAAAAAAACQ/gpdJ1zpz-xU/s1600-h/38.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229775457240665826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJPlEd_izuI/AAAAAAAAACQ/gpdJ1zpz-xU/s320/38.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJPlEvEfRjI/AAAAAAAAACY/oFaOKQf_Wcs/s1600-h/Sisters+(2).jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229775461824808498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJPlEvEfRjI/AAAAAAAAACY/oFaOKQf_Wcs/s320/Sisters+(2).jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-5904325370851946530?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-name-is-zoom-and-i-live-on-moon.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJPlD4-t89I/AAAAAAAAACI/Dmb6v7J99-4/s72-c/Kristy+006+(2).jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-7741286169330547000</guid><pubDate>Wed, 30 Jul 2008 23:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-30T16:38:43.583-07:00</atom:updated><title>Yabba Dabba Don't?</title><description>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I confess....I dressed up my niece and nephew in costume and took pictures of them. And it wasn't Halloween.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Let me 'splain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Gracie's voice has ALWAYS reminded me of Pebbles Flintstone. And Ryan, being all boy and not a man of huge words, reminded me of Bam-Bam. The rest happened like this...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228949789007075122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD2IQIe1zI/AAAAAAAAABY/Q27yntPjyS8/s320/Holly1+185.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aunt H:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Okay, guys! It's time to play dress-up!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grace:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; Oh, no! We've seen those pictures of Abby! (our childhood cat that we liked to put in dresses....sometimes)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ryan:&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228950634134391298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="240" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD25ceiSgI/AAAAAAAAABg/jvJJpVWDHCc/s320/Holly1+190.jpg" width="338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ryan:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Why does Aunt Holly think it's funny to dress me up in a leopard diaper cover and give me a bat?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Grace:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;GaGa Goo (She really got into the role).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD256OKdsI/AAAAAAAAABo/VIgT0TELN5M/s1600-h/Holly1+192.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228950642118784706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD256OKdsI/AAAAAAAAABo/VIgT0TELN5M/s320/Holly1+192.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Ryan: &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I know....she wants us to play golf! I knew I could find a way to make this manly.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD26XOVL2I/AAAAAAAAABw/nzbzzV_hOC0/s1600-h/Holly1+191.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228950649904115554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD26XOVL2I/AAAAAAAAABw/nzbzzV_hOC0/s320/Holly1+191.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD268vic-I/AAAAAAAAAB4/gc7QzTRaYf4/s1600-h/Holly1+189.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228950659975508962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD268vic-I/AAAAAAAAAB4/gc7QzTRaYf4/s320/Holly1+189.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ryan:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Aunt H, whatever you do, DON'T show these pictures to anyone. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;ESPECIALLY my dad.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aunt H:&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Okay, Ryan.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD27FTescI/AAAAAAAAACA/v39zRYQ7zc4/s1600-h/Holly1+193.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-7741286169330547000?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/07/yabba-dabba-dont.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SJD2IQIe1zI/AAAAAAAAABY/Q27yntPjyS8/s72-c/Holly1+185.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-607093317652678450</guid><pubDate>Fri, 25 Jul 2008 20:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-25T20:21:25.291-07:00</atom:updated><title>Busted</title><description>Last night I had to go into school to work on my room. I meant to go in much earlier in the evening, but it was just a crazy night. We got home late from Kohl's (where we lost Ryan and had people searching for him--that's another story) and had to get the kids in bed. It was at least nine o'clock before I left. I had to stop at Target on the way to get snacks for a playdate, so by then I was really running late. (It was about 9:40 by this time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I drove along 116th Street and heard Jessica Simpson's old song called "With You" on the radio. I stopped at the stoplight and was just out of it, wondering how awkward this song is now that she and Nick aren't together anymore since she wrote it about her relationship with him. After the light turned green, I started driving and then saw police lights behind me. Yep, I was being pulled over! I had no idea what I had even done--besides listening to that horrible Jessica Simpson song and overanalyzing its current significance. I guess I was speeding down that 1/2 mile stretch of the road. YIKES! I had NO CLUE!!! Of course TWO police cars had to stop, which was even more humiliating. I was just so upset with myself but held it together as I didn't want to cry and look like I was trying to get out of anything. I still do not believe this, but he gave me a written warning. I had kept myself composed until he said that, then I just got choked up and muttered a "Thank you, sir."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, thank you, Mr. Kind Officer for not giving me a ticket.  That would have put a damper on my upcoming vacation and birthday!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-607093317652678450?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/07/busted.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (IUgirl78)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-3094759721288159574</guid><pubDate>Tue, 22 Jul 2008 05:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-22T12:52:35.532-07:00</atom:updated><title>High Heels:  Friend or Foe?</title><description>Ah, shoes. How I love thee. Those of you who know me well know that (cheap) shoes and purses are my weaknesses. I love purses more, but shoes are a close second. I am sure it is because no matter what, they both always fit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;When I was teaching, I never wore high heels much. I was on my feet too much to wear them everyday. Instead I would wear them to dinner, to church, to a movie. I have never been a big spender when it comes to shoes or purses, which is why I have a lot of both. I learned the hard way not to spend too much on something trendy, as it will probably be out of style by the next season. I usually stick to shoes and purses that are on sale from Target, Kohl's, and TJ Maxx.  I also go through my shoes and purses several times a year and donate the ones I no longer use to Goodwill.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I actually have a notebook in my closet that says, "Some people live to work. Others work to live. I work to expand my shoe collection." 'Tis true. I clean my parents' house as well as their friends' house just to have some extra cash-ola for my shoe (and purse) collection!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Holly and I have often dreamed about buying a pair of &lt;a href="http://www.manoloblahnik.com/"&gt;Manolos&lt;/a&gt; and splitting the cost, as we wear the same size shoe. However, this is just a dream. Even if I won the lottery I don't know if I could spend that much on one pair of shoes, especially now that I am not teaching.  After all, there is no way I would clean a house in Manolos!  I did, however, buy a print of his designs off of Ebay. This is the closest I will come to ever owning Manolos:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SIV0yyeJ16I/AAAAAAAAAA4/H01PrUPp9Ho/s1600-h/manolo1.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225711358523856802" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SIV0yyeJ16I/AAAAAAAAAA4/H01PrUPp9Ho/s320/manolo1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Remember when Carrie registered for Manolos while her friends were registering for baby gifts? I kind of wish I could have registered for those as WELL as the stroller, crib, etc. EVERY new mama should be rewarded with nice shoes, don't you think? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SIV0y1VJKBI/AAAAAAAAABA/XH-gBAVeCUg/s1600-h/300px-Carrie_Manolos-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225711359291369490" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SIV0y1VJKBI/AAAAAAAAABA/XH-gBAVeCUg/s320/300px-Carrie_Manolos-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Anyways, as you all know I hurt my back in May. The cause? High heels (so my chiropractor says). Yes, heels. I finally broke down and wore a pair of heels to a wedding on Saturday (for about 20 minutes) but only put them on once we got there and took them off immediately after the wedding. It was SO nice to finally wear them again. However, my days of wearing them for 10 hours straight are over, I'm afraid. I just can't risk getting hurt again- especially when it has taken nearly two months to get better. I will keep my heels but only pull them out when I know I won't have to wear them for a long period of time. Most of the time it will be flips and flats for me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Purses, on the other hand, are still just fine. Yes, I will definitely stick to purses.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SIY3pT3d13I/AAAAAAAAABI/XwHbqpbk4rI/s1600-h/0SDDRCAJUQJQNCAIASXFYCAA0EW5ZCAJR9SCUCA5ITZ60CAFGL2X2CA0QBN27CAZYLTMZCAAMG42ICANTGBSTCA9BWV1MCA4VHB21CAFNMH7ECAA3T0U3CA8HON23CAZ0KJASCAIG7NSRCAXOR480.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225925600457119602" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SIY3pT3d13I/AAAAAAAAABI/XwHbqpbk4rI/s320/0SDDRCAJUQJQNCAIASXFYCAA0EW5ZCAJR9SCUCA5ITZ60CAFGL2X2CA0QBN27CAZYLTMZCAAMG42ICANTGBSTCA9BWV1MCA4VHB21CAFNMH7ECAA3T0U3CA8HON23CAZ0KJASCAIG7NSRCAXOR480.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;At least for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. For those of you thrifty shoppers who still like to be trendy, my friend &lt;a href="http://random-tuesday.blogspot.com/"&gt;Jessica&lt;/a&gt; told me about a site called &lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.sammoon.com"&gt;Sam Moon&lt;/a&gt;. They have cute purses, wallets, and jewelry and their prices are reasonable! Do you know of any other good, cheap sites?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-3094759721288159574?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/07/high-heels-friend-or-foe.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SIV0yyeJ16I/AAAAAAAAAA4/H01PrUPp9Ho/s72-c/manolo1.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-4824542915345285294</guid><pubDate>Wed, 16 Jul 2008 03:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-15T20:54:36.076-07:00</atom:updated><title>If You Give Your Sisters Your Camera...**</title><description>...They're going to take some pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223453130093739026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u8mAjvBI/AAAAAAAABE4/hyuKDaBBj2E/s320/51708b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after they take some pictures...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223453125082462882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u8TVxuqI/AAAAAAAABEw/BsRmeTqqBrM/s320/51708c.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...They're going to run out of ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u8GkKPrI/AAAAAAAABEg/gcWYqEWB9K4/s1600-h/51708e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223453121653128882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u8GkKPrI/AAAAAAAABEg/gcWYqEWB9K4/s320/51708e.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; When they run out of ideas, they're going to pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u8YJ-gHI/AAAAAAAABEo/yiS9pH__n5c/s1600-h/51708d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223453126375145586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u8YJ-gHI/AAAAAAAABEo/yiS9pH__n5c/s320/51708d.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And after they pray they're going to realize that their sister can easily upload their pictures to the internet,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u83VmUVI/AAAAAAAABFA/mtsgeT9aA54/s1600-h/51708a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223453134745391442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u83VmUVI/AAAAAAAABFA/mtsgeT9aA54/s320/51708a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ...then they are going to wish their sister had never given them her camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223454600682253842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1wSMYLrhI/AAAAAAAABFI/cGU27xKi0JQ/s320/51708.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love you, girls! (You thought I'd forget, didn't you?) :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;**Adapted from "If You Give a Pig a Party."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-4824542915345285294?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/07/if-you-give-your-sisters-your-camera.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (IUgirl78)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_r23NV0rL7g4/SH1u8mAjvBI/AAAAAAAABE4/hyuKDaBBj2E/s72-c/51708b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-7764050598122637110</guid><pubDate>Wed, 09 Jul 2008 00:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-07-08T17:19:42.364-07:00</atom:updated><title>We Love You, Jason-Davey!</title><description>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SHQD0fpUNwI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ikVF1oZ34UQ/s1600-h/Jason.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220802068412118786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SHQD0fpUNwI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ikVF1oZ34UQ/s320/Jason.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Could it be &lt;a href="http://www.realitytvworld.com/news/ousted-bachelorette-suitor-jason-mesnick-id-consider-bachelor-role-7389.php"&gt;true&lt;/a&gt;??!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Hello, Ty.  My name is Holly and I'm going to be your new mommy. "&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&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/807061023326957573-7764050598122637110?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/07/we-love-you-jason-davey.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SHQD0fpUNwI/AAAAAAAAABQ/ikVF1oZ34UQ/s72-c/Jason.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-6351540294479229797</guid><pubDate>Mon, 30 Jun 2008 16:19:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-30T09:22:09.622-07:00</atom:updated><title>Three Things</title><description>&lt;strong&gt;Three Things......&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT SCARE ME: heights, spiders, and flying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I LOVE: God, my family, and my friends (Sorry, Kel, I stole your answer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I HATE: cold weather (really just in January and February), when the Colts lose a game, and olives&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I'M DOING RIGHT NOW: doing this meme, “working,” and sippin’ on my Polar Pop (with crushed ice)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I CAN DO: memes.  No really - I can bake (kind of), work 3 jobs, and I am very good at reading gossip magazines&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....I CAN'T DO: sew, walk slowly (I obviously can, but it is hard for me), and cook things on the grill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...THAT ARE MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE FOODS: cookie dough, ice cream, and chocolate.  All 3 together are lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....SHOWS I WATCHED WHEN I WAS A KID:  Little House on the Prairie, Today’s Special, and Guiding Light&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-6351540294479229797?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/06/three-things.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-4887630175383089696</guid><pubDate>Thu, 26 Jun 2008 01:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-25T18:43:08.548-07:00</atom:updated><title>Whorrible</title><description>Oooops.....I meant horrible.  Have you heard Heidi Montag's &lt;a href="http://tvwatch.people.com/2008/06/23/listen-heidi-montags-new-dance-track/"&gt;new track&lt;/a&gt;?  Thanks to my stalking of People.com, I did.  I really, really wish that I hadn't.  I can't ever get those 2 minutes and 50 seconds of my life back.  Trust me, I could have done a whole lot with that time.  Seriously, I just don't think you've got it, Heidi.  So sorry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes.  I am 32 years old and I watch &lt;em&gt;The Hills&lt;/em&gt;.  I read the following on &lt;a href="http://www.eonline.com/uberblog/the_soup/index.html"&gt;Eonline:&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;In case you had forgotten why The Hills is routinely the &lt;strong&gt;highest rated show for the 18-34 female demographic, &lt;/strong&gt;we can’t figure it out either. Is it the margarine-thick tension you could cut with a breeze? Is it the way that the cast tells you what emotions they are feeling, since you can’t deduce it from their creepy, expressionless faces? Or are young women just really into watching other young women move food around the inside of their mouths? Please explain yourselves.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there ARE people in their 30s who watch &lt;em&gt;The Hills&lt;/em&gt;.  Whew!  I'm safe...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-4887630175383089696?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/06/whorrible.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-5671256929564124781</guid><pubDate>Wed, 18 Jun 2008 03:35:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-19T22:11:52.443-07:00</atom:updated><title>What's Up With That?</title><description>A few nights ago I went to my friend Emily's house to watch &lt;em&gt;The Bachelorette&lt;/em&gt;. After a not-so-dramatic rose ceremony (and lots of chatting in-between), I left and stopped at Wal-mart on the way home. When I walked in the door it was close to midnight. Here are some questions I asked myself, and the answers I thought of as well:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1)  Why are there always 32 people in each line at Wal-mart, even at midnight?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Um, I don't know, but I should: I worked there for 3 summers during college.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2)  Why do I always manage to find 17 things I don't need, but forget the one thing that I stopped there for?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't know, but I do it at every store. It's not just at Wal-mart.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3)  Why is there a 3-year-old shopping with her mom at &lt;em&gt;midnight&lt;/em&gt; on a Monday?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;I really, really have no idea.  I promise I wasn't dreaming!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4)  Why is it that when I'm just going to run in "real quick" I don't come out for an hour?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;See question 2.  &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;5)  Why is it that I talked to my sister yesterday and she said, "I went to Wal-mart to get 4 things today.  When I was walking out I looked at my receipt.  I bought 33 things".  &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;See, it is NOT just me!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-5671256929564124781?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/06/whats-up-with-that.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-8636413952334420688</guid><pubDate>Sun, 15 Jun 2008 18:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-15T11:42:58.021-07:00</atom:updated><title>My Father, The Hero</title><description>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SFVeM41EowI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Jbf5kloovH0/s1600-h/Holly1+148.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212175719257645826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SFVeM41EowI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Jbf5kloovH0/s320/Holly1+148.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  For Father's Day, I attempted to find a nice poem that would sum up the appreciation I have for my dad. One of the Google searches resulted in this: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a class="EC_yschttl" href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0geu.69DFNIh4QAoZxXNyoA;_ylu=X3oDMTEzaTk1OGNlBHNlYwNzcgRwb3MDMTEEY29sbwNhYzIEdnRpZANNMDAxXzc1/SIG=11nfjr605/EXP=1213488701/**http://www.aproxis.com/ebuvideo=425" target="_blank"&gt;Father poems from daughter&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;father poems from daughter, dancing daughter father, daughter father mother relationship ... stories mom " special mom son time " father poems from daughter ...www.aproxis.com/ebuvideo=425 - &lt;a href="http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0geu.69DFNIh4QAopxXNyoA/SIG=17e0ns9pq/EXP=1213488701/**http://cache.search.yahoo-ht2.akadns.net/search/cache?ei=UTF-8%26p=father%2bdaughter%2bpoem%26fr=yfp-t-501%26u=www.aproxis.com/ebuvideo%253D425%26w=father%2bdaughter%2bpoem%2bpoems%26d=bbLVxpzfQ7y_%26icp=1%26.intl=us" target="_blank"&gt;Cached&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Now, if I tell you &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; to go to this site, of course you'll want to. But seriously. It is no where &lt;em&gt;near &lt;/em&gt;the sentimental father/daughter poem I wanted. Let's just say that. I shudder to think of the little girls who are frantically surfing the net for Father's Day, and happen to stumble upon what I did. In any event, I chose to scratch the quote search and decided to write my own little thing for him. (err...not so little. Sorry!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  So, I know I'm not the first daughter to call her dad the "best dad in the world," but mine REALLY is. He performs SO many acts of kindness, most of them at random. His joy comes from making others happy, especially those in need. Whenever I catch him doing something for someone, I always want to go out and tell everyone how wonderful my dad really is. He doesn't like it when I do that, I think because he is such a humble person and doesn't want to be put up on a pedestal. But I'm gonna anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Aside from being a Stephen Minister, doing volunteer work, and picking up trash when he runs 5 days a week, he still donates so much of what he has to others. My sisters and I always joke about him spending our inheritance..."Dad, are you &lt;em&gt;sure&lt;/em&gt; giving to those nuns in Central America is what you &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; want to do???" Of course we are kidding. We love nuns. And I hear Central America is quite nice, too. But he TRULY is an example of how all of us should be more giving, and not just with money. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  It is funny to walk out of the RCA Dome with my dad after a Colts win. He's obviously overjoyed, but he always finds some way to console a fan of the other team in the crowd. Sometimes the people look at him as though my dad is mocking them (more along the lines of something his youngest daughter might do), but it's amazing to see the look in their eye when they figure out, "Wait...this guy is for real." Then I stick my tongue out at them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  What really amazes me is how accepting my dad is of others. Black, white, gay, straight, Jewish, Christian, Reds fans, even Cubbies fans.....he will truly accept anyone. I have made a few monumental mistakes in my day, and my dad will always just give me a hug and tell me, "It's okay." There's no lecturing (at least not at first), no shaking his finger....just, "It's okay." I think this is what children want the most from their fathers, just to know that they will always be loved and accepted no matter what. So, even if I were to do the unthinkable - convert to a Cubbies fan - my dad would still love me anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  God has blessed me with not only the best dad in the world, but the best man. And don't worry, dad. I would more likely convert to Hinduism than to a Cubbies fan. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;  Happy Father's Day, dad! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212175958212891042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SFVeazAcUaI/AAAAAAAAAA0/pJ1ekLmu14w/s320/Holly1+137.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212179737599606994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SFVh2yUdANI/AAAAAAAAAA8/P0JVncg9ZD0/s320/stan2.jpg" border="0" /&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/807061023326957573-8636413952334420688?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/06/my-father-hero.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SFVeM41EowI/AAAAAAAAAAs/Jbf5kloovH0/s72-c/Holly1+148.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-6727199640457749940</guid><pubDate>Tue, 10 Jun 2008 04:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-09T21:27:21.636-07:00</atom:updated><title>Walk Much?</title><description>I don't really consider myself a clumsy person. Sure, I've fallen once or twice- always at the wrong moments. Once, I tripped into an elevator while I was trying to impress some guys. At our wedding, I tripped over my dress while walking down the aisle. Luckily both times I didn't fall, but it was pretty obvious that I have trouble walking! &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sunday morning I woke up around 5 to take some medicine for my back. It was still dark outside, so I carefully walked to the bathroom. On the way back to bed, I must have gotten off-track and ended up tripping over the laundry basket and falling into our bed. Actually, not the bed- the wooden bed frame. My arm ended up between the mattress and the frame. Needless to say, it kinda hurt. Keith immediately jumped out of bed and asked if I was okay. I'm sure I scared the living daylights out of him with all of the racket I made! Anyways, I was fine but my arm felt pretty sore. Yesterday I woke up and saw that I had a slight bruise. I really thought it would be bigger, and secretly hoped that it was bigger than that to prove just how hard I had fallen! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today I went to the chiropractor who had asked if I had done anything unusual the past couple of days. I had told him my back felt great Saturday night after my adjustment, but last night it was really tightening up. I told him that I couldn't think of anything different that I had done. Then he asked, "What happened to your arm?" I mentioned that I fell into the bed yesterday, and said maybe that was what was making my back sore. His response: "You think?" Haha! Okay, so maybe that was a dumb thing to say. On my way out the door, he told me to ice my back, do my stretches, and oh, yeah- don't fall or get hit by any cars. Check, check, and check! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anywho, I decided to take a picture of the bruise just because it actually looks quite terrible today:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SE4B74__X9I/AAAAAAAAAAk/ImtZbAhaIVo/s1600-h/DSCF3372_edited-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210103947338932178" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SE4B74__X9I/AAAAAAAAAAk/ImtZbAhaIVo/s320/DSCF3372_edited-1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Here's to hoping I can stay on my two feet at least until my back is healed! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-6727199640457749940?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/06/walk-much.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_E7RLg-FI1Hw/SE4B74__X9I/AAAAAAAAAAk/ImtZbAhaIVo/s72-c/DSCF3372_edited-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-4057748361092156900</guid><pubDate>Sat, 07 Jun 2008 16:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-07T10:10:27.429-07:00</atom:updated><title>Belated Shout Out</title><description>Sorry this is a few days late, but I just wanted to thank everyone for a wonderful birthday! I loved all of my gifts, my singing phone messages, and most of all spending time with my f &amp;amp; f. And I ESPECIALLY loved having 3 cakes on my birthday - YUM. I still feel a little sick from eating so much. And last but not least, special shout out to my sistahs for braving it on a Wednesday night and coming out to celebrate! Love you guys!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209184946169441970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SEq-G-297rI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ZhOD0djusWc/s320/DSCN1915.JPG" border="0" /&gt; The family at OG - why is Papa Stan all by himself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209185654839045826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SEq-wO297sI/AAAAAAAAAAU/OeB5v0s_Deo/s320/DSCN1927.JPG" border="0" /&gt; What's up with the scary eyes, D? Special props to Darren for picking out a dress for me ALL on his own from my favorite store......what more could a girl ask for???!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209186573962047186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SEq_lu297tI/AAAAAAAAAAc/PygXuKBGO6g/s320/DSCN1925.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Kelly decided to go all sassy on us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209187016343678690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SEq__e297uI/AAAAAAAAAAk/A9DVu8VhdRk/s320/DSCN1926.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-4057748361092156900?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/06/belated-shout-out.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Aunt H)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_lnUJq6-8ISA/SEq-G-297rI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ZhOD0djusWc/s72-c/DSCN1915.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-807061023326957573.post-5276605925351783441</guid><pubDate>Fri, 06 Jun 2008 04:02:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-06-05T21:09:28.930-07:00</atom:updated><title>The Bachelorette</title><description>I don't think it is a secret that my sisters and I (and our mom, too!) love watching &lt;em&gt;The Bachelorette.  &lt;/em&gt;It's funny how reality t.v. can get you all fired up!  We enjoy discussing who will go home each week, or who we think would be a perfect match for DeAnna, this season's bachelorette. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately we have been hanging out with the &lt;a href="http://theweselifamily.blogspot.com/2008/05/winos.html"&gt;WINOS&lt;/a&gt; to watch the show.  It is fun to hear everyone's opinions on the guys and to predict who will be eliminated.  I don't think we were shocked when we found out who was sent home during this week's episode.  I can tell who a couple of her favorites are, so it will be interesting to see who ends up as the final two. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've put a poll on the blog to see who everyone thinks DeAnna will pick at the end.  Will it be the WINOS fave, Jason-Davey?  Or perhaps the guy that she seems to have the biggest connection with- Jeremy?  Perhaps it will just be fun-loving Jesse.  Who knows?  It WILL be interesting to see what everyone is thinking, though!  Go ahead and vote for who you think will be the one to get the final rose at the MOST DRAMATIC ROSE CEREMONY EVER!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/807061023326957573-5276605925351783441?l=schensisters.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://schensisters.blogspot.com/2008/06/bachelorette.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (SisterKW)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></item></channel></rss>