<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949</id><updated>2012-02-04T00:32:22.469-08:00</updated><category term='home'/><category term='music'/><category term='Apple Jacks'/><category term='horses'/><category term='work'/><category term='vacation'/><category term='things that annoy'/><category term='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SEa2_Bpd_DI/AAAAAAAAA5k/cKWf8QrAwF8/s1600-h/img134.jpg'/><title type='text'>horses&amp;cars&amp;me</title><subtitle type='html'>"I feel bad for the man that can't spell a word more than one way." Mark Twain</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>251</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5337699737990816968</id><published>2009-04-23T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T09:59:17.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't blog from the iPhone... Bummer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5337699737990816968?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5337699737990816968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5337699737990816968&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5337699737990816968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5337699737990816968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2009/04/cant-blog-from-iphone-bummer.html' title='Can&apos;t blog from the iPhone... Bummer'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7499723827110216576</id><published>2009-04-03T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T14:09:31.512-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Might Be Lame</title><content type='html'>But I saw the DOW today and it made me smile. Over 8000... is it a good sign? Is it a a lie? Are we going to to go down in flames? Hmmm... we'll just have to see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7499723827110216576?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7499723827110216576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7499723827110216576&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7499723827110216576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7499723827110216576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2009/04/this-might-be-lame.html' title='This Might Be Lame'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-562791253589161172</id><published>2009-04-03T13:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T13:54:13.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Who's Who</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SdZ3LscKCQI/AAAAAAAABTY/DMxR6H1ecb0/s1600-h/Photo+12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SdZ3LscKCQI/AAAAAAAABTY/DMxR6H1ecb0/s320/Photo+12.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320571052576344322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;My dad is an identical twin.  When i was little my uncle and him would switch sweaters and I wouldn't be able to tell who is who.  Some of my "readers" have met my dad.  Can you tell which one he is?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-562791253589161172?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/562791253589161172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=562791253589161172&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/562791253589161172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/562791253589161172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2009/04/whos-who.html' title='Who&apos;s Who'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SdZ3LscKCQI/AAAAAAAABTY/DMxR6H1ecb0/s72-c/Photo+12.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3441605489238340783</id><published>2009-03-22T16:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T17:00:20.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Colorado</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/ScbP9axY0BI/AAAAAAAABS4/4o5IMSAJpKI/s1600-h/IMG_0035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/ScbP9axY0BI/AAAAAAAABS4/4o5IMSAJpKI/s320/IMG_0035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316165064222887954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I didn't bring the cord for my camera but I have taken a few with my phone.  This is the view from the wind swept top of Winter Park ski resort. It's a mile to mile and a half hike from the chair lift to this spot.  The bowls we skied are behind us on this picture.  It was a beautiful day and we did the hike both days.  It was worth it.  I'd like to say this picture sums up the three days I got to spend at my family's place in Colorado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3441605489238340783?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3441605489238340783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3441605489238340783&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3441605489238340783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3441605489238340783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2009/03/colorado.html' title='Colorado'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/ScbP9axY0BI/AAAAAAAABS4/4o5IMSAJpKI/s72-c/IMG_0035.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6496697348635624082</id><published>2009-03-15T22:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T22:19:19.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost a Month Late</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Sb3fTFo4YyI/AAAAAAAABSw/bYuG_NVEx1A/s1600-h/image.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Sb3fTFo4YyI/AAAAAAAABSw/bYuG_NVEx1A/s320/image.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313648654391206690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here Abbie and I are blowing out my start shaped candles.  My sister-in-law made me a cake and even dinner.  Due to some other circumstances I barely made it up to Tahoe before Abbie needed to go to bed so I had cake before dinner.  Also, the family decorated the kitchen and dinning room for me.  There were blue balloons, "Auntie's favorite color" and streamers as well as a sigh that said "Happy Birthday Auntie".  After the long day and drive I had that night it was all greatly appreciated.    Not to get too sentimental, but i love my family.  Each part, AIAV, Ta, and The 'rents, each are their own individuals and support me in their own way and for this past birthday I needed the support they gave me. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6496697348635624082?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6496697348635624082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6496697348635624082&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6496697348635624082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6496697348635624082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2009/03/almost-month-late.html' title='Almost a Month Late'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Sb3fTFo4YyI/AAAAAAAABSw/bYuG_NVEx1A/s72-c/image.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6208509756581380933</id><published>2009-02-11T12:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-16T13:30:46.441-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bucket List (from facebook)</title><content type='html'>Things you have done during your lifetime:&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone on a blind date&lt;br /&gt;(X) Skipped school&lt;br /&gt;( ) Watched someone die&lt;br /&gt;(X ) Been to Canada&lt;br /&gt;( X) Been to Mexico&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to Florida&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to Hawaii&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been on a plane&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been on a helicopter&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been lost&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone to Washington, DC&lt;br /&gt;(X) Swam in the ocean&lt;br /&gt;(X) Cried yourself to sleep&lt;br /&gt;( ) Played cops and robbers&lt;br /&gt;(X) Recently colored with crayons&lt;br /&gt;(X) Sang Karaoke&lt;br /&gt;( ) Paid for a meal with coins only&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to the top of the St. Louis Arch&lt;br /&gt;(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't&lt;br /&gt;(X) Made prank phone calls&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been down Bourbon Street in New Orleans&lt;br /&gt;(X) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose &amp;amp; elsewhere&lt;br /&gt;(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue&lt;br /&gt;(X) Danced in the rain&lt;br /&gt;(X) Written a letter to Santa Claus&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been kissed under the mistletoe&lt;br /&gt;(X) Watched the sunrise with someone&lt;br /&gt;(X) Blown bubbles&lt;br /&gt;( ) Hiked the Grand Canyon&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone ice-skating&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone to the movies&lt;br /&gt;(X ) Been deep sea fishing&lt;br /&gt;( ) Driven across the United States&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been in a hot air balloon&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been sky diving&lt;br /&gt;(X ) Gone snowmobiling&lt;br /&gt;(X) Lived in more than one country&lt;br /&gt;(X) Lay down outside at night and admired the stars while listening to the crickets&lt;br /&gt;(X) Seen a falling star and made a wish&lt;br /&gt;(X ) Enjoyed the beauty of Old Faithful Geyser&lt;br /&gt;( X) Seen the Statue of Liberty&lt;br /&gt;(X) Gone to the top of Seattle Space Needle&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been on a cruise&lt;br /&gt;(X) Traveled by train&lt;br /&gt;(X) Traveled by bus&lt;br /&gt;(X) Traveled by motorcycle&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been horse back riding&lt;br /&gt;(X) Ridden on a San Francisco CABLE CAR&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to Disneyland/World&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been in a rain forest&lt;br /&gt;( X) Seen whales in the ocean&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to Niagara Falls&lt;br /&gt;( ) Ridden on an elephant&lt;br /&gt;( ) Swam with dolphins (almost...there were dolphins all around our dive boat in belize)&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to the Olympics&lt;br /&gt;( ) Walked on the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;(X) Walked through a volcano&lt;br /&gt;( ) Saw and heard a glacier calf&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been spinnaker flying&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been water-skiing&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been snow-skiing&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to Westminster Abbey&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to the Louvre&lt;br /&gt;( ) Swam in the Mediterranean&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to a Major League Baseball game&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to a National Football League game&lt;br /&gt;(X) Traveled alone&lt;br /&gt;(X) Received an award&lt;br /&gt;( ) Kissed a stranger&lt;br /&gt;(X) Broken the dress code&lt;br /&gt;(X) Drove or went somewhere on a whim&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to a large music festival&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to a large ren festival&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been to a comic book convention&lt;br /&gt;( ) Run a marathon&lt;br /&gt;( ) Read a book in a day&lt;br /&gt;(X) Spent a whole day reading&lt;br /&gt;( ) Spent a whole day in bed, not sick&lt;br /&gt;(X) Jumped off a cliff&lt;br /&gt;(X) Went rock climbing&lt;br /&gt;( ) Went geo-caching&lt;br /&gt;(X) Been to a foreign country (other than Canada and Mexico)&lt;br /&gt;( ) Been on a dig&lt;br /&gt;(X) Performed in front of an audience&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure I even want to do all of these.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6208509756581380933?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6208509756581380933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6208509756581380933&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6208509756581380933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6208509756581380933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2009/02/bucket-list-from-facebook.html' title='Bucket List (from facebook)'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-4602855852237655935</id><published>2009-01-13T15:37:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T15:49:35.770-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Impersonal</title><content type='html'>Okay, well I have to admit that my entries have been a bit impersonal lately.  There has been made a request from some to be kept out of my blog.  I understand not everyone wants their personal life viewable on the web.  'Cause of this I've felt "limited" as to what I can talk about, until I realized, I didn't talk about this person all that much so why is it effecting me! Here am, out to try a personal blog.&lt;div&gt;This past weekend I was at a car event, despite the 100,000 miles my care carries.  I had two students.  My C/D student was my brother's girlfriend and an A student in a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Miata&lt;/span&gt;, we'll call him Mike.   I've had my brother's girl before and she recognized her timidness but gets bolder as the event goes on.  All is all she greatly improved. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mike on the other hand was different.  He's a college kid from Chico who's buddies do other events.  I'm not sure how he got into the Audi Club event, but he did.   As with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;bro's&lt;/span&gt; girl, he improved, but he had built a habit i just couldn't get him to recognize or shake.  After 15-18 min on the track, about 8-10 laps, he's completely stop doing everything I taught him.  He wouldn't brake as hard, he'd hold on track out, he'd slam on the gas and just be rough.  He completely stopped listening to me.  It's like he got immune to my voice.  It was especially &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;frustrating&lt;/span&gt; 'cause when he did listen and got a corner right he was faster, smoother, and over all the turn felt better.  He even admitted it.  Ugh. So finally last time out as we exit turn three all wrong 'cause he came in to fast and slammed on the gas, I say "It's funny, in each run group, this is the time you seem to stop listening to me." "Oh, really sorry." He says as he straightens the car out.  We get though turn 5 a bit off kilter with me saying, "Let it track out, let it track out.  The next corner will come to you don't worry." 'Cause it does every time!  Well he got to turn 6 too soon and didn't brake... sum it up.  He spun.  He was luck to have stayed on track, but really what other evidence to I need to say THAT'S WHY YOU LISTEN TO WHAT I'M SAYING.  I'M YOUR I-N-S-T-R-U-C-T-O-R!&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; God damn EGOS!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-4602855852237655935?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/4602855852237655935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=4602855852237655935&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4602855852237655935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4602855852237655935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2009/01/impersonal.html' title='Impersonal'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5995458255607541892</id><published>2009-01-07T15:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T16:26:06.403-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The time had come</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SWVG88GZA3I/AAAAAAAABR4/jLp0Pj7PNno/s1600-h/100k.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SWVG88GZA3I/AAAAAAAABR4/jLp0Pj7PNno/s320/100k.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288711350155543410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A month before her 5 year "birthday" Smurfett turned over 100,000 miles.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5995458255607541892?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5995458255607541892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5995458255607541892&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5995458255607541892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5995458255607541892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2009/01/time-had-come.html' title='The time had come'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SWVG88GZA3I/AAAAAAAABR4/jLp0Pj7PNno/s72-c/100k.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1710065438128390674</id><published>2008-12-26T17:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T17:26:54.223-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SVWEHwD4IcI/AAAAAAAABRY/QtRT3A2nFsg/s1600-h/DSCN0990.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SVWEHwD4IcI/AAAAAAAABRY/QtRT3A2nFsg/s320/DSCN0990.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284275006484259266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Thank You Ms. E for the squeaky monkey! I love it's dangling legs and squishy body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1710065438128390674?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1710065438128390674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1710065438128390674&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1710065438128390674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1710065438128390674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SVWEHwD4IcI/AAAAAAAABRY/QtRT3A2nFsg/s72-c/DSCN0990.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7579942241630385438</id><published>2008-12-14T13:02:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T07:29:42.112-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ama Ebi Urban</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SUV0sesdqUI/AAAAAAAABBM/WmUeXXR_lVg/s1600-h/DSCN0948.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SUV0sesdqUI/AAAAAAAABBM/WmUeXXR_lVg/s320/DSCN0948.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279754445664397634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We just lovingly call her Ebi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7579942241630385438?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7579942241630385438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7579942241630385438&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7579942241630385438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7579942241630385438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/12/ama-ebi-urban.html' title='Ama Ebi Urban'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SUV0sesdqUI/AAAAAAAABBM/WmUeXXR_lVg/s72-c/DSCN0948.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1805616619273222370</id><published>2008-12-06T01:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T10:09:24.222-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gas Prices</title><content type='html'>California is known for having some of the most expensive gas, but last night, getting gas this is what I saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/STq_P2VGL-I/AAAAAAAABBE/T27L95udm7w/s320/gas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276740192420900834" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;That's right $1.79 for regular.  But what i really care about is the $1.99 for Supreme.  Also, this isn't some Rotten Robbies or something.  This is Chevron, and the Shell across the street was matching the price.  Who'd of thunk a year and half ago that we'd have a black man coming in to office as president and all gas would be under $2. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1805616619273222370?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1805616619273222370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1805616619273222370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1805616619273222370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1805616619273222370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/12/gas-prices.html' title='Gas Prices'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/STq_P2VGL-I/AAAAAAAABBE/T27L95udm7w/s72-c/gas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6146067664054942228</id><published>2008-12-01T21:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T21:23:07.732-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My First Lead Climb</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;For those of you who don't know what a lead climb is, it's a climb where you are trailing a rope behind you.  You attach the rope to bolts in the wall as you go up.  This means that most of the time you are above the point where you are attached to the wall. That means... longer fall, if you fall, higher pucker factor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/STTDb6kvJ7I/AAAAAAAABA8/JCZDryb6WZc/s1600-h/3074405585_57b03603ff_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/STTDb6kvJ7I/AAAAAAAABA8/JCZDryb6WZc/s320/3074405585_57b03603ff_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275055947904919474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a picture a friend of mine took from the ground.  It makes it all look grander then it really was, but there isn't any rope above me. Just below me.  And it is last connected to the wall about 5 ft below me. I made it up and down alive.  I'm not sure when i'll get the nerve up to do it again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6146067664054942228?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6146067664054942228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6146067664054942228&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6146067664054942228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6146067664054942228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-first-lead-climb.html' title='My First Lead Climb'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/STTDb6kvJ7I/AAAAAAAABA8/JCZDryb6WZc/s72-c/3074405585_57b03603ff_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6906776475805012988</id><published>2008-11-23T20:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T21:06:07.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am glad I'm not Obama</title><content type='html'>He's got a job ahead of him.  Who would want to take control of a sinking ship?  A ship full of rust holes and a leaking engine. A ship who's crew is looking wide eyed into the sky for the man who said HOPE to save them all.  How can he save us all?  He is not superman.  He is not Batman or Captain Planet.  He is a man who chose to run for the job of chief cleaner of Bush's mess.  He is the man who ran on the knowledge that we, the American people, are grasping at straws.  Straws for leadership, for the environment, for our pocket books, for our healthcare, for our educations, for our lives.  Here is a man saying "Yes, We Can" in a time where we are all looking around going, "we can? well, if you're sure... i guess." Over 66 million of us grasped at the straws Obama has weaved into a safety net for us all.  I just HOPE for his sake, for the sake of the American population's faith in politicians, for the sake of us all, his net holds.  I HOPE his net will hold and not just the 66 million who believe that "Yes, We Can" but especially for the 58 million who were not so sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6906776475805012988?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6906776475805012988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6906776475805012988&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6906776475805012988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6906776475805012988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-glad-im-not-obama.html' title='I am glad I&apos;m not Obama'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6050694509093396754</id><published>2008-11-16T15:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T15:45:08.248-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drinking</title><content type='html'>Having had an emotionally agitated week I went drinking, I'm sorry wine tasting, with Ma and her friend G-money. People frequently say, "go have a drink" after a long or volitial week, but really is that the best thing to do? Alcohol is a depresent. I know, dispite the giggley high I feel after having a few drinks, the lack of self contiousness, the loud boysterous, I feel a draging dark low. I feel self pitty, self loathing that encompases all. If I could hold my liquor better... Well, I could see how people become alcoholics.&lt;br /&gt;But this leads me to why... I mean is the high worth the low. The low that is so much deeper then the place you started at, the place that "encouraged" you to go a bit past tipsey. "look all my problems melted away!" no, not at all. With a few drinks, dispite the inishal high, buzz, as some call it,  your problems will feel deeper, more consuming. So why, why is alcohol or social lubricant? Why is it our "solution"? Don't we know better? No, I don't think we do. I think the instant gratification of a buzz is too strong. It beats out the known low. ugh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6050694509093396754?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6050694509093396754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6050694509093396754&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6050694509093396754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6050694509093396754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/11/drinking.html' title='Drinking'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3338630329516335501</id><published>2008-11-16T15:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T15:43:56.281-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cable Car</title><content type='html'>Today, despite a wicked nausea hang over, I went into the city to hang with Ms. O. After doing some yoga breathing on BART and realizing that standing outside the restaurant we were going to have brunch at was making me ill, we chose to go shopping.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, you might be wondering why this mundane yammering on about my Sunday. Well, after being a local San Francisco Bay Arian my whole life, Today I rode on a cable car! Do to the nausea I did not hang over the edge, but I have finally fulfilled all the San Francisco tourist destinations.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3338630329516335501?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3338630329516335501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3338630329516335501&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3338630329516335501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3338630329516335501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/11/cable-car.html' title='Cable Car'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5440991284146187718</id><published>2008-10-26T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-26T16:56:07.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sitting</title><content type='html'>I've never been one for sitting still.  When need be, I can normally dig deep and do it, but this weekend has not be the best for me.  Rather then blood running though my veins I feel like there is carbonation.  I'm unsure and untrusting of everything.  I just want to keep moving, be around people, things, other moving objects.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5440991284146187718?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5440991284146187718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5440991284146187718&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5440991284146187718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5440991284146187718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/10/sitting.html' title='Sitting'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2443688337149360548</id><published>2008-10-23T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T08:42:15.118-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Prince of Darkness</title><content type='html'>In college I dated a guy Ms. T fondly (not) named the prince of darkness. POD and I dated for about 2 years, off and on. Their was a period he went to study in Africa and then moved to NY for an internship after graduation. Anyway, he was a note leaver. Very romantic in hindsight but felt suffocating then. If he left the house before me he'd leave me a note by the bed. If I left before him, when I got home from classes I'd find a trail of notes on fall leaves. This wasn't an everyday thing, but probably once a week I would find a note (unless he was a bit depressed, then no notes).&lt;br /&gt;What has brought all this up you might ask? Well it has to do with Shell Silverstine. I taught a lesson on rhyming rhythmical poetry at the Academy yesterday and pulled &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Light In The Attic&lt;/span&gt; out of a box in my office. I don't know how long its been since I looked though it. But there admits the funny tales, was a POD note. It was dated 11/30/02. We had just finished Thanksgiving at my house, I would later fly out to Chicago for Christmas, a few days after him and even less days after his childhood dog died.&lt;br /&gt;In the note he was thanking me for sharing Thanksgiving and "letting (him) see my life" and wishing me luck in the future as a teacher. "soon you will have  your own classroom and they will be calling you Mrs. Urban."&lt;br /&gt;I am not nostalgic for that relationship. We weren't right for each other, but I wish I appreciated the little things then, 'cause they don't happen as readily when you get older. I wonder if what I learned from that relationship stuck. What did I learn then that is "helping" me now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-2443688337149360548?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2443688337149360548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2443688337149360548&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2443688337149360548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2443688337149360548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/10/prince-of-darkness.html' title='The Prince of Darkness'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7234207510951217546</id><published>2008-10-22T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T08:41:01.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stumbled</title><content type='html'>I was scanning the am stations today looking for the world series (we can talk about that one later) when I found myself on a right wing radio station. The guy was claiming that Obama was going to Hawaii, during this crucial time in this political "tight race", not to visit his allying grandmother, but to avoid a scandal about a fake birth certificate. What? I'm sorry how could someone get 10 days away from the presidential vote, as the front runner, with a fake birth certificate! Really?! I mean, we now know how much "Alaskan" money Palin spent to fly her kids around, for something as obscure as seeing their father in a snowmobile race. We know how soon McCaine might dying and how much his skin cancer weighed, but Obama has been running for president for 18+ months with an invalid birth certificate. No way man! They wouldn't let that happen. He couldn't have gotten to senator let alone running for president!&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, okay, so there was that to start. Then some BRAVE, yet stupid, man called in to tell the host he's full of shit. Oh yeah, that sent the crazy babbles off! The host started commenting about how "we" are brainwashed by colleges. "We" have no personal identity, no cultural identity, no national identity and all "we" can do is put a condom on a cucumber. "ah," he said, "they have no sexual identity either! They are no better then cucumbers."&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry what? Dude, go to college and learn to string together a thought so someone OTHER then your brainwashed right wing conservatives can understand what you're saying then MAYBE you'll actually be able to "convince" some college educated liberals you have a valid point. Oh, but I guess that means you'd have to have a valid point to start with. Foraged birth certificate, really? REALLY? That's all you can come up with when your guy is losing and there are only 10 days left to go.&lt;br /&gt;After that 3+ minutes I changed the channel.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7234207510951217546?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7234207510951217546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7234207510951217546&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7234207510951217546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7234207510951217546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/10/stumbled.html' title='Stumbled'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-8621224615631353388</id><published>2008-10-12T16:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T16:38:08.586-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not what I normally talk about 2</title><content type='html'>Economics.  &lt;div&gt;I think I took an economics class in high school.... something about a consumer index and something about... i don't know... i don't think i did well.  Anyway, the US economy here is in the shit.  We've been here before and will most likely be here again, but being Americans all we think about is the right now.  And, right now it sucks.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yesterday I was at a birthday brunch of a friend.  I am not very close to her friends but we've been friends for quite sometime now.  Anyway, the economy came up.  Someone mentioned that &lt;a href="http://www.businessweek.com/the_thread/economicsunbound/archives/2008/10/iceland_goes_ba.html"&gt;Iceland is bankrupt&lt;/a&gt;.  Another person mentioned that due to the crap sales, the girl who works for William and Sonoma mentioned that sales in September were down 6.6% (normally a 3% drop is big), there will be more sales.  Here is a direct quote from someone's mouth, "Sucks for Iceland. Do you think Loui Viton will have a sale?" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Granted, these ladies don't have 401Ks or most of them don't and I'm sure they don't have a personal stock portfolio, and only one owns a house, so the 2000+ drop the market took over the past week won't personally "affect" them.  But dear god.... I guess if they are putting their money back into the market, sale or not, it's a step in the right directions.  Want to buy me a bag? Or rather should I stand on a street corner with a sign that says: My personal net worth just dropped 25%, care to give me a Starbucks Gift Card?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-8621224615631353388?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/8621224615631353388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=8621224615631353388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8621224615631353388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8621224615631353388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/10/not-what-i-normally-talk-about-2.html' title='Not what I normally talk about 2'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7943173408505159846</id><published>2008-10-10T14:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T15:25:11.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Normally Don't Talk About This</title><content type='html'>I tend to keep my blog light.  Mostly the contents is the happenings of my mundane life.  Quite frequently I forget that people actually read my blog so talking about "real" topics isn't something I do.  But recently I have felt the need.  Between the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt;-election/post debates political world and the quickly crumbling finical world, there isn't much else on my mind.   But for now I'll stick to one topic.&lt;div&gt;Tuesday, I had my first conversation with someone who is not a lefty.  It started by me casually over hearing a conversation between my trainer (male) at the gym and one of the owners (female).  Something along the lines of, "Yeah, so he said (some client of the owner) I like her 'cause of her soccer mom mentality.  I'm not a soccer mom so why that applies.  I mean 'what's her name' would like her if that was the case. I think she's tough" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I wasn't quite sure who the "she" was.  I mean they were talking politics and Hilary is out so the only "she" in politics is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt;... and who uses the word 'like' and '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt;' in the same sentence unless it says something about killing wolfs from a helicopter. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm sorry," I said, "Did you say you &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;like&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt;?" I was aghast.  Here is, as Ma calls her, a betrayer, a women who stands for nothing &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;women&lt;/span&gt; in a modern sense.  I mean have we even seen her wear pants!  If you felt Hilary was to "male" and "masculine" then how can you call &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt; feminine?  You put lipstick on a bulldog and it's still a bulldog.  It will still bite you with her lock jaw and rip you to shreds! Really, I don't want anyone to rip me to shred, ESPECIALLY someone who fired her former brother-in-law just because he "broke her sister's heart". Especially, someone who thinks even if you're raped or you might die if you give birth, you have to have the baby.  Especially someone who says abstinence is the only way to teach kids about sex while her underage daughter is going to give birth. Someone who says gays have no rights, they made the choice to be gay, that's their choice and have to face the "hardships" that come with that, but is willing to FORCE her daughter to marry so guy who she knocked boots with about 6 months ago. OH MY GOD I can't stand &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;blatant&lt;/span&gt; blindsided stupidity.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, so I haven't dealt much with "the other side".  My group of friends and family, we're all standing at the same point... which is "um, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt; really... that's your choice!?"  So here is this women, the gym owner, one who I thought was right minded, thinking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt; is what this country needs.  Right. We need her in the same way we need more bull dogs in the world.  Hearing this took me so far off my rocker that I couldn't even argue.  I brought up the abortion, the teaching the abstinence, her complete utter lack of experience (really, McCain can you spend the first two month of your campaign claiming Obama doesn't have enough experience to be president and then find, not just a rookie, but almost someone at the high school level of politics as your running mate).  So I mentioned what little I really know and what's funny is I probably know more about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt; then I do about anyone else in this election.  I had nothing to dispute their claims on Obama.  I really don't know. I like how he speaks, I like the idea of change.  I don't relate to the basics of the republican politics. I'm ashamed to admit that what I know has come from three main sources: my friends, The Daily Show, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;SNL&lt;/span&gt; and the last only slightly (I really just like how well Tina Fay plays &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt;).  What is also sad, is this is what it is like for most of my generation.  There are the active few, maybe more then in the generation before me, but still... We don't trust FOX news, or CNN or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;CNBC&lt;/span&gt; or any other "news" source.  We don't want to sit through the negatives of the world.  We want to see puppies and laugh at how stupid the political world is.  We need our news to be entertainment.  Oh shit, i said I'd only bring up one "real" topic.  I've digressed.  What I learned from Tuesday? Oh god, there are McCain/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt; people out there... I should be very afraid!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7943173408505159846?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7943173408505159846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7943173408505159846&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7943173408505159846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7943173408505159846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-normally-dont-talk-about-this.html' title='I Normally Don&apos;t Talk About This'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1688822074861658597</id><published>2008-10-06T23:10:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T23:19:06.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall Is Here</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOr973qwO5I/AAAAAAAABAE/ZzoxzueUkbE/s1600-h/FallatLP.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOr973qwO5I/AAAAAAAABAE/ZzoxzueUkbE/s320/FallatLP.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254291120278485906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I show up at school today and this is what it looked like.  The beautiful tree with it's changing leaves.  I love fall.  I love the east bay crisp foggy mornings that lead to warm almost hot days.  That distinct fall smell; 1 part fire place smoke, 1 part rotting leaves, 1 part crisp.  I love fall and spring.  The seasons that mean change is coming.  They are the seasons of change.  Winter isn't change, it's cold.  Summer is just hot and for me busy, but fall is a change.  The horse show season is coming to an end.  I can pull out my sweaters but still wear flip flops.  &lt;div&gt;It does have its down sides.  It's much harder to get out of bed in the morning as it gets darker and darker.  I accumulate sweaters and jackets in my car almost as if i'm homeless with a closet or 7 to put them in.  But to see the leaves change... nothing can demising the joy i feel in that.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1688822074861658597?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1688822074861658597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1688822074861658597&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1688822074861658597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1688822074861658597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/10/fall-is-here.html' title='Fall Is Here'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOr973qwO5I/AAAAAAAABAE/ZzoxzueUkbE/s72-c/FallatLP.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7805929949078980573</id><published>2008-09-30T19:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T19:04:59.297-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Art</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOLaigFzIMI/AAAAAAAAA_8/uMSvQEz5vXE/s1600-h/DSCN0882.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOLaigFzIMI/AAAAAAAAA_8/uMSvQEz5vXE/s320/DSCN0882.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252000401732083906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm not sure if it's "art" but that's another discussion.  It's a wall decal, fancy word for sticker.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7805929949078980573?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7805929949078980573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7805929949078980573&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7805929949078980573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7805929949078980573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-new-art.html' title='My New Art'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOLaigFzIMI/AAAAAAAAA_8/uMSvQEz5vXE/s72-c/DSCN0882.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3512341813632063743</id><published>2008-09-29T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T14:46:27.697-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Weekend</title><content type='html'>Despite the funny pictures of my Dad on a motorcycle, it wasn't the strongest weekend.  It might seem like the adjective, strongest, isn't a natural choice for describing a weekend.  Well, maybe with some description the word choice will make sense.&lt;div&gt;I had my first horse show in almost two months this weekend.  Since that show, Pebble back in July, I've jumped very little.  Well, that's not true.  I've jumped but not big.  Over these two months I can only think of 3 times where I've jumped over 3'3".  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With all of this, I think rusty might be an understatement for how I rode.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thursday Stella was wild.  Friday I was so off I couldn't find my nose on my face, let alone a distance to a jump. Saturday I just bumped down to the lower division, 10cm, and found some mojo back.  Later that day, I got to jump over my normal height, 1.30 meters, and though I wasn't stellar, held my own considering the disaster of the day before. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Am I back to my old self in terms of my riding, no.  Can I be? yes, soon hopefully.  Until then I guess I practice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3512341813632063743?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3512341813632063743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3512341813632063743&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3512341813632063743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3512341813632063743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/09/this-weekend.html' title='This Weekend'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-567304419870033743</id><published>2008-09-28T16:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-28T16:32:05.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Apple Jack's Day with Dad</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;We're working on doing some last minute fixes on my house before my house warming.  Apple Jacks and I were having some trouble with the big slider, to the point we called re-enforcements, Dad.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once Dad came down, we all realized there were some parts that needed to be picked up from the hardware store.  What a great opportunity for Apple Jacks to take Dad on his motorcycle!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARmEuIiAI/AAAAAAAAA-w/c7YOpuNmK90/s1600-h/DSCN0873.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARmEuIiAI/AAAAAAAAA-w/c7YOpuNmK90/s320/DSCN0873.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251216511313938434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Dad's fist is in the air.  He made it back alive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARmUN-tQI/AAAAAAAAA-4/mAecOdxmLlg/s1600-h/DSCN0876.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARmUN-tQI/AAAAAAAAA-4/mAecOdxmLlg/s320/DSCN0876.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251216515474044162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"How do I get this off?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARmyTlylI/AAAAAAAAA_A/XerUfevh2WU/s1600-h/DSCN0877.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARmyTlylI/AAAAAAAAA_A/XerUfevh2WU/s320/DSCN0877.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251216523550640722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Oh, yes, my dad, Mr. Tough Guy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARnI_VQUI/AAAAAAAAA_I/DBKqR1aYJVk/s1600-h/DSCN0878.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARnI_VQUI/AAAAAAAAA_I/DBKqR1aYJVk/s320/DSCN0878.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251216529639686466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here they are, after the parts have been retrieved, using cooking spray and the drill, trying to get a new hole in the frame of the sliding door. At least Apple Jacks gets to use his Dremal Tool!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-567304419870033743?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/567304419870033743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=567304419870033743&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/567304419870033743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/567304419870033743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/09/apple-jacks-day-with-dad.html' title='Apple Jack&apos;s Day with Dad'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SOARmEuIiAI/AAAAAAAAA-w/c7YOpuNmK90/s72-c/DSCN0873.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7098556633562806428</id><published>2008-09-22T22:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T22:37:16.359-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fishing the Lower Sac</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Dad, Tao, Ian, and I got in the car in the darkness of 6am to head up to Redding to go fishing.  It turned out to a be a beautiful day to be on the river, high 70's low 80's light breeze.  It was just the four of us in two boats each with a guide, Me and Dad with the main guide, and Tao and Ian with Chris.  Right off the bat i caught a fish, a rare thing to happen so quickly.  It was a fat sucker fish, but still a fish that made it all the way to the boat.  The day continued and Dad kept losing his fish before he could reel them into the boat.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The highlight of the day was when I caught a Steelhead.  It took me 10-15 min to reel it in.  It kept running and fighting.  This was the first time I caught a fish with fight like this.  When I finally got it to the boat we had floated quite a bit away for Tao and Ian's boat and Ian was the only one with a camera, so he has to long distance shot of me landing this 7 pound fish.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SNh_DR1gqdI/AAAAAAAAA-o/Q9W5cA5_C5Q/s1600-h/flyfishing5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SNh_DR1gqdI/AAAAAAAAA-o/Q9W5cA5_C5Q/s320/flyfishing5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249085060004489682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is what it looked like, a bit brighter, and head a bit uglier.  But it was a big fish.  I'm use to landing maybe a 12ft rainbow this was twice as big and weight at least 3 times as much.  It was cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7098556633562806428?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7098556633562806428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7098556633562806428&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7098556633562806428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7098556633562806428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/09/fishing-lower-sac.html' title='Fishing the Lower Sac'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SNh_DR1gqdI/AAAAAAAAA-o/Q9W5cA5_C5Q/s72-c/flyfishing5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2865998694980846264</id><published>2008-09-18T09:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T09:06:32.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In the front yard this morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SNJ8W4q4bgI/AAAAAAAAA-g/gGO9Ou6SEAE/s1600-h/DSCN0864.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SNJ8W4q4bgI/AAAAAAAAA-g/gGO9Ou6SEAE/s320/DSCN0864.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247393248451259906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is the whole family, Dad, Mom and Baby.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't diss the picture quality, it's though a window with a flash.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-2865998694980846264?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2865998694980846264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2865998694980846264&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2865998694980846264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2865998694980846264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-front-yard-this-morning.html' title='In the front yard this morning'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SNJ8W4q4bgI/AAAAAAAAA-g/gGO9Ou6SEAE/s72-c/DSCN0864.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1027579343397627677</id><published>2008-09-14T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T19:36:13.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Arcade</title><content type='html'>Last night a small group of friends and I wen to an arcade.  They were very excited to play "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hyperbowl&lt;/span&gt;",  bowling game where you spin a suspended bowling ball though a "course" to hit the pins.  We stupidly picked the expert level, Tokyo. We had to get our ball though a Tokyo street. We did have the advantage that the street was straight, but we had the disadvantage of maneuvering around cars, buses, and motorcycles.  There was also a time limit to get to the pins.  &lt;div&gt;The true challenge was that you had to smack the ball around to get it to roll along the course.  As Apple Jacks said after he bowled only about half his frames, "I feel like I've been clapping nonstop at a concert." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But he got his revenge.  He got Ms. J and I on a horse racing game.  That wasn't the sneaky part.  He some how got us to pick the longest distance around the track.  To say it was exhausting is an understatement.  Ms. J and I were humping and bumping and rocking these "horses" back and forth for maybe 90 seconds, but it felt like 5 min. We were both out of breath and Ms. Jen even felt like she was going to vomit from the  exertion. She did beat me, but in my defense, its nothing like riding a real horse.  All is all, between bowling and the horse racing, it was quite a work out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1027579343397627677?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1027579343397627677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1027579343397627677&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1027579343397627677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1027579343397627677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/09/arcade.html' title='The Arcade'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6983893200723319242</id><published>2008-09-07T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T09:37:59.598-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some More PIcs for Ms. E's wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC4doUIXI/AAAAAAAAA-A/FgDZp-IQS4M/s1600-h/573884897605_0_ALB-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC4doUIXI/AAAAAAAAA-A/FgDZp-IQS4M/s320/573884897605_0_ALB-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243319035215749490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here we are.  My first close friend to get married. I'm so so so very happy for her!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC4t37LjI/AAAAAAAAA-I/11sVkyBpc1E/s1600-h/876230797605_0_BG.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC4t37LjI/AAAAAAAAA-I/11sVkyBpc1E/s320/876230797605_0_BG.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243319039576190514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Someone had to fluff the dress properly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC446GCeI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/hRgpV7QIdG0/s1600-h/541690797605_0_ALB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC446GCeI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/hRgpV7QIdG0/s320/541690797605_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243319042538080738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Apple Jacks dancing with Bella, a daughter of Ms. E's best friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC5FkYAiI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/goqDNFbbs5A/s1600-h/241598897605_0_ALB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC5FkYAiI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/goqDNFbbs5A/s320/241598897605_0_ALB.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243319045936644642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My speech... it was a little nerve racking but it went well&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6983893200723319242?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6983893200723319242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6983893200723319242&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6983893200723319242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6983893200723319242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/09/some-more-pics-for-ms-es-wedding.html' title='Some More PIcs for Ms. E&apos;s wedding'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SMQC4doUIXI/AAAAAAAAA-A/FgDZp-IQS4M/s72-c/573884897605_0_ALB-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-9074268612771240513</id><published>2008-08-26T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T19:44:43.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'>OMG I read an Oprah article</title><content type='html'>Apple Jacks and I have recently moved in together.  It's been a bit hard 'cause my roommate is still here.  Wouldn't be a problem if a) my roommate didn't have TONS of stuff b) Apple Jacks "liked" him (not that Apple Jacks likes anyone really but still) c) this dislike didn't completely make me feel the same way and cause every little thing that my roommate does to drive me nuts d) it meant one of these two boys, yes boys, picked up after themselves, dish into the dishwasher... really is it that hard?!  Just a few more days and the roommate is out! &lt;div&gt;Anyway, I was of facebook and one of the ads on the side said something like "a boyfriend test".  (yes at times I am that person.  Oh, a test on what movie star I look like.  What type of mythical creature would I be? ) It lead me not to the desired test but to a female bonding site (no NOT bondage).  Blogs about being pregnant and "my kids messes" and stuff.  Well, there was a thing about moving with your significant other.  It was a little video of this women who had moved from Kentucky to live with her boyfriend.  She had the whole twang and everything.  This is what did it.  At the bottom is said, "read more" and I clicked it.  It lead me to &lt;a href="http://www.oprah.com/article/omagazine/ss_omag_200506_mbeck/1"&gt;THE OPRAH WEBSITE&lt;/a&gt;! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not an Oprah person.  Hell, i have trouble spelling her name.  The most time I've spent with an O magazine was when I had to rip pages out for a writing assignment during my student teaching.  I've seen the Tom Cruse jumping on the couch thing on YouTube or The Soup but never really watched it live.  Dear god, please don't ever let me find the oprah website again... next it will be Good Housekeeping or something! AHHHHHH!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-9074268612771240513?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/9074268612771240513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=9074268612771240513&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/9074268612771240513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/9074268612771240513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/08/omg-i-read-oprah-article.html' title='OMG I read an Oprah article'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1827513932413489442</id><published>2008-08-21T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T17:39:04.398-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emily's Wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SK4JwN3n8QI/AAAAAAAAA9A/O2ANVFfJYDg/s1600-h/IMG_0297.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SK4JwN3n8QI/AAAAAAAAA9A/O2ANVFfJYDg/s320/IMG_0297.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237134140639801602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Emily and Steve doing the deed! Happy Couple!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SK4JweUugxI/AAAAAAAAA9I/SpR_DoMQAIo/s1600-h/IMG_0247.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SK4JweUugxI/AAAAAAAAA9I/SpR_DoMQAIo/s320/IMG_0247.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237134145056834322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Apple Jacks and I before we try to drive though the storm coming across the lake.  It was a doozy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1827513932413489442?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1827513932413489442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1827513932413489442&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1827513932413489442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1827513932413489442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/08/emilys-wedding.html' title='Emily&apos;s Wedding'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SK4JwN3n8QI/AAAAAAAAA9A/O2ANVFfJYDg/s72-c/IMG_0297.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-207529750097854173</id><published>2008-08-01T17:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T17:50:20.655-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I got my hair done</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SJOvPnvwopI/AAAAAAAAA8g/IU3lKBmo-uE/s1600-h/new+hair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SJOvPnvwopI/AAAAAAAAA8g/IU3lKBmo-uE/s320/new+hair.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229716275209478802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this time I like it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-207529750097854173?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/207529750097854173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=207529750097854173&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/207529750097854173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/207529750097854173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-got-my-hair-done.html' title='I got my hair done'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SJOvPnvwopI/AAAAAAAAA8g/IU3lKBmo-uE/s72-c/new+hair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7960216021868739336</id><published>2008-07-13T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T09:56:53.525-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='home'/><title type='text'>Breath Easy</title><content type='html'>Today is the first day I can breath easy.  The sky is blue.  Now, I don't live in LA or anything.  Northern Cali, but the smoke smog from all the wildfires has been so bad over the past few weeks we've had several spare the air days, flights were delays due to lack of visibility, they have had warnings not to go outside, and the sunlight has been orange.  But today, after about an hour of watching Willie sit in the sun and romp on the lawn, i noticed something different.  Something different yet normal.  The sky is blue today.  The sunlight is sparkling clean. &lt;div&gt;This doesn't mean the wildfires are contained in any way.  The two biggest that are near by, out of the 300 still burning, were around 60% contained last night. This is all good new.  Up north the weather has been cooler and the winds quite, which will help the hard working fire crews.  But we're not in the clear year.  In CA the fire season is normally fall.  After the long hot summer has dried everything out.  But this year, despite the flooding, we didn't get a lot of rain and now we're are having a VERY early fire season.  If we're living in an inferno now... what's it going to be like in October when we normally have fire season?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7960216021868739336?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7960216021868739336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7960216021868739336&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7960216021868739336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7960216021868739336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/07/breath-easy.html' title='Breath Easy'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6034915635341553670</id><published>2008-07-07T18:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T18:21:21.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures from Spruce</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/21296348@N04/sets/72157606041804615/"&gt;Here are all my pictures from Spruce Meadows&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6034915635341553670?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6034915635341553670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6034915635341553670&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6034915635341553670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6034915635341553670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/07/pictures-from-spruce.html' title='Pictures from Spruce'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1474019955147601388</id><published>2008-06-23T21:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T17:17:00.056-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spruce Meadows Skyliner</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SGB750ocGSI/AAAAAAAAA7A/4MaouZUzM-w/s1600-h/Spruce+Meadows.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SGB750ocGSI/AAAAAAAAA7A/4MaouZUzM-w/s320/Spruce+Meadows.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215304601806051618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This week at Spruce was the Prix de Nations.  I was riding for the NorCal team.  There are four members on the team but we were one short so we adopted a SoCal person for the day. It was a good thing too 'cause she was one of the top riders for our team.  The top four teams come back, do the course again, then jump off. &lt;/div&gt;Walking the course for the 1.30 meter Prix de Nation in Spruce Meadows Meadows on the Green felt intimidating, yet exhilarating.  The first jump was a yellow triple bar.  After two more fences making you do a U-turn you came upon this red triple combination made up of rails with white horizontal stripes that looked like a sea of rails.  Then you jumped a white wall that was so bright it you needed sun glasses.  If that didn't seem like enough optical illusions there was a green and yellow one stride with green boxes set on the outside under the first element and then green boxes set together in the middle in the second element. You couldn't tell where the bottom was. &lt;div&gt;There were 17 teams on at the 1.30 level. I went 11th, being the lead rider for the team. I had two rails, but considering the first rider stopped out, meaning she was eliminated and the second rider had 3 rails and no one had gone clean, I was still proud.  The other members of my team did okay.  One girl stopped out herself, but the other two, the SoCal one included, went clean.  With the eliminated score dropped we had 8 faults.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The exciting part was waiting for the scores. Each team would go and we would count up their totals.  Until the bitter end were in the top four.  I ran back to the barn to pull a sleeping Stella out of her stall to get up to the ring.   As Stella and I walk up to the ring I see Lindsay holding a 6th place ribbon.  We just missed the final 4. As I walk back to the barn the adrenaline leaves my body.  After counting faults and cheering and watching with baited breath and waiting, I wonder if I had it in me, if we, if the team could go and do it all again.  If we did, would we be able to fix out mistakes without losing the challenging parts we did so well?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SGB77NX35xI/AAAAAAAAA7I/_znj-84ltsI/s320/n722044867_508065_9693.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215304625627326226" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here we are, the whole NorCal team. All the teams, meter 1.10, 1.20 and 1.30 placed in the top 6 teams. Go Girls! These are our sponsor jackets.  We got jackets, hunt coats, hats, tank tops, saddle pads, and ear covers for the horses.  Thanks, it was a good time had by all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://web.mac.com/cansportphoto/Site/_Sk_Sat_Mog_1.30m_Jr_Am-1.html#40"&gt;Here's&lt;/a&gt; where you can see some pictures from the first week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&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/23307949-1474019955147601388?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1474019955147601388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1474019955147601388&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1474019955147601388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1474019955147601388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/06/spruce-meadows-skyliner.html' title='Spruce Meadows Skyliner'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SGB750ocGSI/AAAAAAAAA7A/4MaouZUzM-w/s72-c/Spruce+Meadows.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5522101746717352397</id><published>2008-06-17T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T15:44:50.191-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Work For Myself</title><content type='html'>I have just gotten back from a meeting for the tutoring company I work for.  It all came about because I wanted to know what format we were going to used to tutor this summer, because I've heard several different things from several different people. The meeting started at 1pm with two center directors, two educational directors, the owner and myself.  &lt;div&gt;The meeting ended at 3pm.  What did we accomplish? Nothing.  I have been told the same stuff I knew.  I have a slightly better idea about what the end goal is, but not clue how to get there.  The owner wants SO much he can't put his finger on what needs to get done now.  None of the center directors know much or do much for the tutoring program we were meeting about.  The educational directors write lessons, but they don't ever teach them.  I am the only one who writes lessons and teaches them.  They also pointed out that I'm also the only person who teaches my lessons.  There for, they might be a bit too focused for my teaching style.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know.  It all felt like a waste of time.  I felt like I was the only one organized and with an idea of what I wanted from the program.  AHHHHH!!!!! doesn't everyone one know my way is best... god! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5522101746717352397?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5522101746717352397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5522101746717352397&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5522101746717352397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5522101746717352397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/06/why-i-work-for-myself.html' title='Why I Work For Myself'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-8744688516697254022</id><published>2008-06-08T16:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T17:05:53.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amy's Wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;A women that I ride horses with got married this weekend.  We are all very excited for her.  She's an amazing women and deserves to be super happy.  One another note, the barn has chosen to buy Susan, the women who takes all the horse pictures, a new fancy camera.  She was testing it out at the wedding.  Here are a few of the pictures she took. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SExt6y7XDPI/AAAAAAAAA6k/LPhYC-LpT4g/s320/P1010238.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209659725831408882" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here's Dan &amp;amp; Amy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SExzLj46DSI/AAAAAAAAA6s/DHuxE4W4kzA/s320/P1010218.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209665511410502946" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Yes, we are probably making snarky comments&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SExstsm2thI/AAAAAAAAA50/PTXT9fuMcLc/s1600-h/P1010212.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SExstsm2thI/AAAAAAAAA50/PTXT9fuMcLc/s320/P1010212.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209658401284863506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here we are at cocktail hour. Me, Apple Jacks, Ms. J and her boyfriend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SExst1uUyQI/AAAAAAAAA58/xHYmp5PwpvU/s1600-h/P1010230.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SExst1uUyQI/AAAAAAAAA58/xHYmp5PwpvU/s320/P1010230.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209658403732113666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Waiting for food, please note the look on Apple Jacks face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-8744688516697254022?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/8744688516697254022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=8744688516697254022&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8744688516697254022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8744688516697254022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/06/amys-wedding.html' title='Amy&apos;s Wedding'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SExt6y7XDPI/AAAAAAAAA6k/LPhYC-LpT4g/s72-c/P1010238.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3090740748028318128</id><published>2008-06-05T17:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T17:30:01.087-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Undercurrent</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SEiETley-pI/AAAAAAAAA5s/50FjqZfTzYY/s1600-h/W2KP123A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SEiETley-pI/AAAAAAAAA5s/50FjqZfTzYY/s320/W2KP123A.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208558441067641490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here's another picture of my mom's horse.  At home we call him Uri.  For a show name we picked Undercurrent.  Our, my, tradition is to keep with the Dutch tradition.  They name their horses based on the year they are born.  First letter tells you what year they were born.  Tsunami was born in 2000, Undercurrent was born in 2001.   I'll make sure I don't buy a horse born in 2004... that would have to start with X.  That would be harder then U was.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3090740748028318128?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3090740748028318128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3090740748028318128&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3090740748028318128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3090740748028318128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/06/undercurrent.html' title='Undercurrent'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SEiETley-pI/AAAAAAAAA5s/50FjqZfTzYY/s72-c/W2KP123A.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1316278239224301597</id><published>2008-06-04T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T08:42:10.385-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SEa2_Bpd_DI/AAAAAAAAA5k/cKWf8QrAwF8/s1600-h/img134.jpg'/><title type='text'>I guess Normal is relative</title><content type='html'>Last night there was a 3.9 earthquake in Vallejo.  Nothing major happened.  Things shook, people freaked out, and some stuff fell off shelves.  Of course it was on the news ENDLESSLY 'cause really, how often do they have "something" to really talk about. &lt;div&gt;Well, Vallejo is about 30 miles from where I live, so I thought nothing of it.  Whatever, it's California, earthquakes happen.  I was getting read for bed and looked into the corner of my closet and there was this.  (Now, i still haven't found the cored to my camera so this is taken with my phone.  To see better you might want to squint.) This is a crack in my well.  This is a new wall, kind of.  It's sheetrock over the original adobe brick.  My guess, the brick moved and the sheetrock didn't... leading to a nice crack in the plaster and paint of my wall.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SEa2_Bpd_DI/AAAAAAAAA5k/cKWf8QrAwF8/s320/img134.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5208051212990938162" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Do I get to count this as earthquake damage?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1316278239224301597?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1316278239224301597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1316278239224301597&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1316278239224301597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1316278239224301597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-guess-normal-is-relative.html' title='I guess Normal is relative'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SEa2_Bpd_DI/AAAAAAAAA5k/cKWf8QrAwF8/s72-c/img134.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-147732118705050340</id><published>2008-06-02T19:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T19:37:31.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You know My house is NORMAL again when...</title><content type='html'>you stand at the edge of the lawn to see momma and two spotted baby deer looking up at you with wide eyes and big ears.  Ah, suburban nature!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-147732118705050340?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/147732118705050340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=147732118705050340&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/147732118705050340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/147732118705050340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/06/you-know-my-house-is-normal-again-when.html' title='You know My house is NORMAL again when...'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-942226564528787202</id><published>2008-05-28T19:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T19:37:43.784-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Okay, so yes, my birthday was over three months ago, but Apple Jacks had some technical difficulties.  So three months later my gift arrives. Here's the picture from Etsy.  They are much smaller then they look here, but due to the fact i can't find the cable for my camera I can't show you what they look like in my ears. They are fun and funky and I love them dearly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SD4WYqYJ8OI/AAAAAAAAA5E/bCK6ywAQwus/s1600-h/il_430xN.27518424.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SD4WYqYJ8OI/AAAAAAAAA5E/bCK6ywAQwus/s320/il_430xN.27518424.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205622832235147490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-942226564528787202?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/942226564528787202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=942226564528787202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/942226564528787202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/942226564528787202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/05/my-birthday.html' title='My Birthday'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SD4WYqYJ8OI/AAAAAAAAA5E/bCK6ywAQwus/s72-c/il_430xN.27518424.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-997198650176611390</id><published>2008-05-22T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T11:08:19.801-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Many things</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Many things have happened and I haven't really been keeping up.  So Ms. E was here and we did stuff.  Like wedding dress shopping. Yet, despite what felt like 57 hrs of dress shopping, no dress was found, but she did find a potential wedding band to go with her ring.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SDW04aYJ8LI/AAAAAAAAA4s/Zeam-xMfIbo/s320/DSCN0561.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203263825742786738" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We also went to a baseball game.  I know the Giants were playing, 'cause we were at their stadium but who they were playing... well I think they had red on their uniform... The giants did win, which is a rare thing this year.  We had a good time, drank beer, enjoyed the sun, and eat churros. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SDW1maYJ8NI/AAAAAAAAA48/jnZFRliH_7s/s320/2485752240_fc6b6d3e66_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203264616016769234" /&gt;This is the "awesome" picture Apple Jacks took, (he was all proud of himself talking about how he got an A in photo class in high school, that was like 500 years ago).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-997198650176611390?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/997198650176611390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=997198650176611390&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/997198650176611390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/997198650176611390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/05/many-things.html' title='Many things'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SDW04aYJ8LI/AAAAAAAAA4s/Zeam-xMfIbo/s72-c/DSCN0561.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5550212692923495342</id><published>2008-05-06T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T08:59:29.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ms. E is Coming!</title><content type='html'>I'm excited and nervous, as to be expected.  She' getting married, we hope, later this year and needs to find a dress.  Since she lives in Iowa, at the moment, she hasn't been exposed to much culture or well... anything other then corn really.  So I made her come out here.  We'll see how it goes.  Her budget is tighter then a Henry the VIII style corset. Thats going to be her, our biggest challenge.  I just want to have a good time and be silly trying on dresses.  We'll see.  &lt;div&gt;Worst part is, she's here the same time my driveway isn't.  Now, i have a driveway that's about 100 yrd long.  (might be slightly off).  The lay the gravel on Wed. and Thur. Pave on Friday and we can't touch it Sat.  Ms. E gets here Wed night, and leaves Sunday am.  Maybe she'll get to take the first steps up the new asphalt. That would be good.  She was the first college friend to see my house pre-remodel.  Ms. T came during remodel and now Ms. E will see it post remodel but not 100% done.  Will it ever be 100% done... I'm not so sure at this point.  Anyway, the "guest/roommate office" room is ready.  The bed is made and there are even hangers in the closet.  I tried to make the comforter smell like lavender, we'll see.  I get into the hostess thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5550212692923495342?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5550212692923495342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5550212692923495342&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5550212692923495342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5550212692923495342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/05/ms-e-is-coming.html' title='Ms. E is Coming!'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1955585591569670341</id><published>2008-05-05T20:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T20:20:43.045-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Abbie, Ian, Violet Totem Pole</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SB_OcVYhvRI/AAAAAAAAA4M/XUrj64nG7MQ/s1600-h/232323232%7Ffp43236%3Enu%3D3238%3E2%3C8%3E63%3B%3EWSNRCG%3D32333-77-788%3Bnu0mrj.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SB_OcVYhvRI/AAAAAAAAA4M/XUrj64nG7MQ/s320/232323232%7Ffp43236%3Enu%3D3238%3E2%3C8%3E63%3B%3EWSNRCG%3D32333-77-788%3Bnu0mrj.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197099481180519698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1955585591569670341?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1955585591569670341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1955585591569670341&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1955585591569670341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1955585591569670341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/05/abbie-ian-violet-totem-pole.html' title='Abbie, Ian, Violet Totem Pole'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SB_OcVYhvRI/AAAAAAAAA4M/XUrj64nG7MQ/s72-c/232323232%7Ffp43236%3Enu%3D3238%3E2%3C8%3E63%3B%3EWSNRCG%3D32333-77-788%3Bnu0mrj.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-8406101188736997982</id><published>2008-04-28T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T21:51:49.705-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She's back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SBqd11YhvQI/AAAAAAAAA4E/guye5QOgKgQ/s1600-h/IMG_0497.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SBqd11YhvQI/AAAAAAAAA4E/guye5QOgKgQ/s320/IMG_0497.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195638668313869570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a horse person, I'm quite fearful that saying ANY of this is a total jinx, but at the same time after this weekend I'm also feeling quite confident. Fateful last words, right.  Oh, well I'm going to say it anyway.  Stella's back.  We just had a funaminal weekend.  We had several clear rounds.  We jumped some GREAT jumps.  After some convincing on Lindsay's part I only had a lesson on Saturday, no showing and decided to go on Sunday in the Open (that's Jr., Amateur, and Professionals) Class.  The $7500 Woodside Classic.  Well, we kicked ass.  Out of 30+ competitors only 8 made it into the jump off, Stella and I being one of them. Out we went, laying a carful and clean round.  Meaning we weren't super fast, but we didn't hit any rails.  So over all we go 3rd. For feeling like we were having a hard time coming back into the show season, I now feel like we're in full swing.  Two more shows until Canada!  Come on Stell-Bells lets BRING IT!&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SBaHxlYhvPI/AAAAAAAAA38/LVAQSR5Vwys/s320/stellaribbon.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194488506136771826" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-8406101188736997982?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/8406101188736997982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=8406101188736997982&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8406101188736997982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8406101188736997982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/04/shes-back.html' title='She&apos;s back'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SBqd11YhvQI/AAAAAAAAA4E/guye5QOgKgQ/s72-c/IMG_0497.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1638377203265855609</id><published>2008-04-23T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-23T13:41:01.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random</title><content type='html'>I'm getting off the freeway today and there by the side of the road is a crane.  Just looking into the gutter for something to eat after last nights rain i'm guessing.  But here is was 5ft from my car as a zoomed past it at 30 some odd mph.  It didn't even care.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1638377203265855609?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1638377203265855609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1638377203265855609&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1638377203265855609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1638377203265855609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/04/random.html' title='Random'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5582639090933605535</id><published>2008-04-08T12:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T12:31:05.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends</title><content type='html'>Apple Jacks and I have been dating a year and half now.  This are things and trucking along.  One thing that alway worried me was the friend thing.  His friends, who seem to be a lot of girls, have become my friends, or at least people who I hang out with.  I haven't alway been comfortable calling them my friends.  Most of my friends, Ms. M, Ms. T, and Ms. E all live far away.  As time has gone on these women have become people who I hang out with without Apple Jacks and more and more my friends. So I thought a blog post should be there for them. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; " src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_vHiPvTa4I/AAAAAAAAA3E/KbwKj-lOLds/s320/2395087384_dda307b3a7_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186958787001674626" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; So here's B, Jen, The Ma, and Me and B's birthday cocktails.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Good times had by all! &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/23307949-5582639090933605535?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5582639090933605535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5582639090933605535&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5582639090933605535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5582639090933605535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/04/friends.html' title='Friends'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_vHiPvTa4I/AAAAAAAAA3E/KbwKj-lOLds/s72-c/2395087384_dda307b3a7_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-4428624978844108950</id><published>2008-03-31T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T12:32:09.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ma's Birthday</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;The Ma wanted to learn to snowboard for her birthday.  Jen and I decided that we'd waste a day of snowboarding and show her what to do.  It's was a beautiful day and I ended up riding in just my tank top for a while.  Yes, i was one of those girls, but it was a good time.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E_k_vTa2I/AAAAAAAAA20/4GfE801jj6U/s1600-h/2323704938_25063085d1_b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E_k_vTa2I/AAAAAAAAA20/4GfE801jj6U/s320/2323704938_25063085d1_b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183994550897830754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Ma and I on the chair lift&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E_lPvTa3I/AAAAAAAAA28/Xjp-s2YMljY/s1600-h/2323704012_ca1c4c7c1d_b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E_lPvTa3I/AAAAAAAAA28/Xjp-s2YMljY/s320/2323704012_ca1c4c7c1d_b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183994555192798066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Ma, Me, and Jen chilling in the sun at lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-4428624978844108950?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/4428624978844108950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=4428624978844108950&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4428624978844108950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4428624978844108950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/03/mas-birthday.html' title='The Ma&apos;s Birthday'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E_k_vTa2I/AAAAAAAAA20/4GfE801jj6U/s72-c/2323704938_25063085d1_b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2857985294098138872</id><published>2008-03-31T12:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T12:45:46.665-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lux</title><content type='html'>I've been leasing a horse for the past couple months, just to get more time on a horse and more time in the ring.  It's been great, but, this whole sport being a luxury and all, having a second horse has been a bit of stretch so, it's time for Lux to go back home.  I figured I needed to share something about her. A picture or two maybe. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E-1_vTa1I/AAAAAAAAA2s/FQD_SZzCjHw/s1600-h/2372475365_0c69aa652b_o.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E-1_vTa1I/AAAAAAAAA2s/FQD_SZzCjHw/s320/2372475365_0c69aa652b_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183993743443979090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Here we are waiting to go into the show ring. Lux is being a bit shy, but she is only 5 so that's understandable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E-avvTa0I/AAAAAAAAA2k/fLauHcpscp8/s1600-h/lux6-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E-avvTa0I/AAAAAAAAA2k/fLauHcpscp8/s320/lux6-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183993275292543810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Despite her young age, she does her job quite well.  We were Champion in our division, as well as having won the Foxfield medal.  I will miss her.  She taught me what i needed her to teach me and i think visa versa as well.  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-2857985294098138872?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2857985294098138872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2857985294098138872&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2857985294098138872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2857985294098138872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/03/lux.html' title='Lux'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R_E-1_vTa1I/AAAAAAAAA2s/FQD_SZzCjHw/s72-c/2372475365_0c69aa652b_o.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-8196256592537523475</id><published>2008-02-23T14:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T15:01:16.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Mothers Dream</title><content type='html'>My mother doesn't dream, or if she does she doesn't remember, but the other night she did, and it was a weird dream. &lt;div&gt;She dreamt that she found Apple Jacks in his house, a long low dark ranch style house, "entertaining" some hookers and whores. She was so mad she woke herself up yelling.  Totally disturbing. My mother is dreaming about my boyfriend. She claimed it was a combination of too much CSI: Las Vegas and being ticked off at my dad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-8196256592537523475?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/8196256592537523475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=8196256592537523475&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8196256592537523475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8196256592537523475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-mothers-dream.html' title='My Mothers Dream'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-4296331304197025522</id><published>2008-02-22T09:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T09:18:16.883-08:00</updated><title type='text'>After almost a week</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I can walk fine, but the color is moving across the top of my foot.  Only thing, I can't feel my pinky toe. But really that's probably a good thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R78DT0Z-qmI/AAAAAAAAA1g/_jwPEPKryp4/s1600-h/DSCN0552.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R78DT0Z-qmI/AAAAAAAAA1g/_jwPEPKryp4/s320/DSCN0552.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169854536264624738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R78DUkZ-qnI/AAAAAAAAA1o/bejIUuonTAQ/s1600-h/DSCN0553.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R78DUkZ-qnI/AAAAAAAAA1o/bejIUuonTAQ/s320/DSCN0553.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169854549149526642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-4296331304197025522?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/4296331304197025522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=4296331304197025522&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4296331304197025522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4296331304197025522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/02/after-almost-week.html' title='After almost a week'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R78DT0Z-qmI/AAAAAAAAA1g/_jwPEPKryp4/s72-c/DSCN0552.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-4162793923511161045</id><published>2008-02-18T10:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T11:21:42.661-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stepped On</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;WARNING: If you have a weak stomach I suggest you skip this post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Saturday I was at the barn finishing up getting Lux ready to ride. I was putting on her bridal when she side stepped and crunched my foot.  Being the smart horse she is, when she felt something funny under her foot she teisted around on it to look at it.  As she did this I yanked on her, trying to get her to step off me.  When i did this is just caused her to pushed down harder before she stepped off.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This time felt like it was minutes but I know it wasn't. As the realization hit me that my foot was searing in pain, I chocked out words to the other girl getting her pony ready to tie Lux back up and get another grownup.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hobbled, screaming and crying (beyond crying, though i don't know what word that would be) into the tack room and laid on the ground.  My trainers came running in and got me ice, took off my boot and put my foot up.  My pinky toe was a bit bloody, but that was it.  The mud and the way my boot leather was twisted was the only thing I had at that point to show the trauma I felt.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I kept screaming quietly and shaking my hands trying to get the hot burning pain out of my body when my mom showed up. She was coming out to video me and luckily she showed up right then.  With her motherly wisdom she nixed my idea of putting a boot back on and riding and told me she was bringing me to the emergency room.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Three hours, five x-rays and no fun pills later, they tell me it isn't broke and I'll be fine in a couple of days.  Oh, and I need a tetanus shot.  That hurt more than my foot.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, a picture is worth a thousand words, right? Too my slight disappointment the colors aren't as vivid in the pictures and my foot isn't nearly as colorful as I hoped, but it is puffy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day 1&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nYfUZ-qkI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/R59UQv-Gqtw/s1600-h/FootDay1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nYfUZ-qkI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/R59UQv-Gqtw/s320/FootDay1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168400079949572674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nYf0Z-qlI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/_yINtlO3f9Q/s1600-h/FootDay1-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nYf0Z-qlI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/_yINtlO3f9Q/s320/FootDay1-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168400088539507282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day 2&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nXxEZ-qgI/AAAAAAAAA0w/ax0Ofcv-HPQ/s1600-h/Footday2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nXxEZ-qgI/AAAAAAAAA0w/ax0Ofcv-HPQ/s320/Footday2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168399285380622850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nXx0Z-qhI/AAAAAAAAA04/vrNGSMLCjkk/s1600-h/FootDay2-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nXx0Z-qhI/AAAAAAAAA04/vrNGSMLCjkk/s320/FootDay2-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168399298265524754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Day 3&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nXyUZ-qiI/AAAAAAAAA1A/6BiUo-ve77o/s1600-h/FootDay3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nXyUZ-qiI/AAAAAAAAA1A/6BiUo-ve77o/s320/FootDay3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168399306855459362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nXy0Z-qjI/AAAAAAAAA1I/ZARmZOdlY_A/s1600-h/FootDay3-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nXy0Z-qjI/AAAAAAAAA1I/ZARmZOdlY_A/s320/FootDay3-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168399315445393970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&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/23307949-4162793923511161045?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/4162793923511161045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=4162793923511161045&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4162793923511161045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4162793923511161045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/02/stepped-on.html' title='Stepped On'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7nYfUZ-qkI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/R59UQv-Gqtw/s72-c/FootDay1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-27168055037449158</id><published>2008-02-12T13:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T13:59:53.954-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An Early Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;After 20 minutes of running around outside in the bright sunlight, Mocha, AppleJacks' dog, needed a siesta.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7IWl0Z-qdI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/DUTnrncY-nk/s1600-h/Mocha.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7IWl0Z-qdI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/DUTnrncY-nk/s320/Mocha.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166216561525959122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-27168055037449158?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/27168055037449158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=27168055037449158&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/27168055037449158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/27168055037449158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/02/early-spring.html' title='An Early Spring'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R7IWl0Z-qdI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/DUTnrncY-nk/s72-c/Mocha.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3275542161658108699</id><published>2008-02-05T19:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T20:07:58.698-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Triangle solo</title><content type='html'>Yes, that's right.  The Foo Fighters had a triangle solo.  It was a great show, and the triangle solo was only a very small bit.  I've only see the the Foo Fighters at Bridge School. Or at least I think that's the only place.  I'm starting to loose track of all the shows I've been too.  Anyway, this show bumped Damien Rice off the top of my recent shows list.  Yes, I do admit they are totally different shows so even with that I still thought Foo was great.  &lt;div&gt;They played songs from every album. They did a whole acoustic set on a stage in the middle of the floor that made it feel VERY personal despite the nose bleed seats I had.  It was a great show.  If you have a chance you shouldn't miss out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3275542161658108699?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3275542161658108699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3275542161658108699&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3275542161658108699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3275542161658108699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/02/triangle-solo.html' title='Triangle solo'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3508217195825410365</id><published>2008-01-25T21:03:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T21:05:19.910-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of Practice</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I'm so so so out of travel practice.  I was standing in line for security to fly out of the rain and into the sun in Arizona when i realized i didn't have my ziplock bag.  Dear god, how did i forget to put my 3oz liquids into a quart size ziplock.  Ugh.  Thankful there was guy standing there with one in hand for me to use.  I made it safe and sound to the sunny AZ.  I even needed my sunglasses when i got off the plane!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3508217195825410365?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3508217195825410365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3508217195825410365&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3508217195825410365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3508217195825410365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/01/out-of-practice.html' title='Out of Practice'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-4419475552546529005</id><published>2008-01-23T22:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T22:36:28.134-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I might not have gotten a raise....</title><content type='html'>I didn't get my raise at The Academy, the center where I do my non-private tutoring.  Before the holidays I asked for a raise.  I got part of it but in terms of dollars per hour I didn't get shit, though I was asking for a lot more money than I'm making, 40% more.   I was also laughed at by the center manager "No one here makes that much." but she humored me and sent it along to the owner anyway. I haven't heard a thing.  &lt;div&gt;Today, I heard something... I found out the other women who does the elementary tutor program with me is leaving for the rest of the school year.  What does this mean for me? you might ask.  More money? oh not quite. not without working more thats for sure. I need to absorb all her tutor kids into my schedule.  Meaning I will now be booked from 3:30-6:30 four days a week at a minimum. Somedays I will have kids as early as 2:30 and as late as 8.  Other days I will sub from 7:45am and still tutor until 8pm.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh did I mention that I also need to write reviews and  create lesson plans for ALL the elementary kids now.  Oh, yes, that raise... well I got the more responsibility part but not the money part...hmmm&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So for all you Bitches who tell me I don't work hard can F-off 'cause really, the rest of this school year is going to be jam packed with kids. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-4419475552546529005?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/4419475552546529005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=4419475552546529005&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4419475552546529005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4419475552546529005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-might-not-have-gotten-raise.html' title='I might not have gotten a raise....'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6635814797403847622</id><published>2008-01-20T20:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T21:05:24.070-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Land In Colorado</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My family has property in a subdivision, &lt;a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;geocode=&amp;amp;time=&amp;amp;date=&amp;amp;ttype=&amp;amp;q=fraser,+co&amp;amp;ie=UTF8&amp;amp;ll=39.954639,-105.785916&amp;amp;spn=0.004861,0.008712&amp;amp;t=h&amp;amp;z=17&amp;amp;om=0"&gt;The Reserve on Elkhorn Ridge&lt;/a&gt;, in Fraser Colorado.  It's a small town in the Fraser Valley, home to the Winter Park ski resort. Last spring my brothers and I went out to look at the bark beetle situation.  Over the past few years the bark beetles have gotten worse and worse.  The Homeowners Association required we cut down dead and infected trees and spray to save others.  We ended up cutting down over 500 trees and spraying 250 more on out 12 acres.  My parents ended up cutting down all the trees under 6 in. in circumference, almost everyone on their lot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's a mess.  If you look at the number of trees left in The Reserve it is pitiful, but the number of green trees is outstanding compared to the rest of the valley.  Google maps recently updated its image of the valley and I was floored when i saw it. I had to call my brother and have him look at it and he was floored as well.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;These are pictures are from the spring visit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5QjuRI1o3I/AAAAAAAAAzw/gE5gonKO8k4/s1600-h/016_12A.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5QjuRI1o3I/AAAAAAAAAzw/gE5gonKO8k4/s320/016_12A.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157786751027487602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here, other than the juvinal moose, you can see some of the infected trees&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5QjuhI1o4I/AAAAAAAAAz4/cA8HDTnineg/s1600-h/026_23.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5QjuhI1o4I/AAAAAAAAAz4/cA8HDTnineg/s320/026_23.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157786755322454914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This image is of The Reserve and reminds me of how green it was this past spring but you can still see a few brown trees out there.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The link to the google maps is The Reserve at Elkhorn Ridge.  You'll be looking right at my brother and I's property (between the road and the meadow with an old jeep trail in the middle of it).  To the North is my parents property, now almost naked and treeless.  If you zoom out two and look toward the north west, into the valley, it gives a true perspective of the damage the bark beetles have done.  All that brown is dead infected trees.  Not only is it a bark beetle infection issue, but all those dead trees are basically kindling.  If there is any remote fire, the whole valley will be gone.  I sound like such a hippy but I've never had anything like this effect me so personally.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6635814797403847622?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6635814797403847622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6635814797403847622&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6635814797403847622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6635814797403847622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/01/land-in-colorado.html' title='Land In Colorado'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5QjuRI1o3I/AAAAAAAAAzw/gE5gonKO8k4/s72-c/016_12A.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-8661876721456435415</id><published>2008-01-18T16:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T16:50:31.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>House Pics come in instalments</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5FIbBI1o1I/AAAAAAAAAzg/Q6uJ3JYswm0/s1600-h/Lowfamilyroom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5FIbBI1o1I/AAAAAAAAAzg/Q6uJ3JYswm0/s320/Lowfamilyroom.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156982677315101522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;New Couch in the family room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5FIbhI1o2I/AAAAAAAAAzo/POydNsvRN2U/s1600-h/Lowbedroom3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5FIbhI1o2I/AAAAAAAAAzo/POydNsvRN2U/s320/Lowbedroom3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5156982685905036130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The New Bedroom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-8661876721456435415?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/8661876721456435415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=8661876721456435415&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8661876721456435415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8661876721456435415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/01/house-pics-come-in-instalments.html' title='House Pics come in instalments'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R5FIbBI1o1I/AAAAAAAAAzg/Q6uJ3JYswm0/s72-c/Lowfamilyroom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-4071632787187897905</id><published>2008-01-13T21:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T21:21:01.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>These are the people I'm related to</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R4rwNBI1o0I/AAAAAAAAAzY/BdJwoHlkjRw/s1600-h/232323232%7Ffp--%3Dot%3E2329%3D3%3B9%3D72%3C%3DXROQDF%3E2323%3B77%3B7-94-ot1lsi.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R4rwNBI1o0I/AAAAAAAAAzY/BdJwoHlkjRw/s320/232323232%7Ffp--%3Dot%3E2329%3D3%3B9%3D72%3C%3DXROQDF%3E2323%3B77%3B7-94-ot1lsi.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155196829913424706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is a picture my sister-in-law took of my brothers and I at Oma's 90th birthday.  We are such total freaks.  If you call me weird at least you know I'm not the only one, and it's also probably genetic, though it could be nature as well, we'll never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-4071632787187897905?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/4071632787187897905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=4071632787187897905&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4071632787187897905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4071632787187897905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/01/these-are-people-im-related-to.html' title='These are the people I&apos;m related to'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R4rwNBI1o0I/AAAAAAAAAzY/BdJwoHlkjRw/s72-c/232323232%7Ffp--%3Dot%3E2329%3D3%3B9%3D72%3C%3DXROQDF%3E2323%3B77%3B7-94-ot1lsi.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-696618871723871796</id><published>2008-01-09T12:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T12:14:14.265-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More house photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R4UqjxI1ovI/AAAAAAAAAyw/bupAInZsFc8/s1600-h/Kitchen2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R4UqjxI1ovI/AAAAAAAAAyw/bupAInZsFc8/s320/Kitchen2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153572142569595634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R4UqkhI1owI/AAAAAAAAAy4/xtVOHtxvVh0/s1600-h/Master+Bath.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R4UqkhI1owI/AAAAAAAAAy4/xtVOHtxvVh0/s320/Master+Bath.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5153572155454497538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-696618871723871796?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/696618871723871796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=696618871723871796&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/696618871723871796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/696618871723871796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/01/more-house-photos.html' title='More house photos'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R4UqjxI1ovI/AAAAAAAAAyw/bupAInZsFc8/s72-c/Kitchen2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-4412069370580843366</id><published>2008-01-06T10:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T12:10:58.357-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Female Friends</title><content type='html'>Okay, so i've been saying this for years but never blogged about it, mostly because I know my mom reads this and I don't want to deal with the "talk" that could come with it but f-it. It's my blog, right?&lt;div&gt;Years of dating and being out of college I've notice a few things.  It is easier to meet men than it is to meet women.  Why, I don't really know? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not easy to meet men, but you go on a date with a guy, and if it doesn't work out you don't see them again, and if it does you do.  But where is there a place to have same sex totally platonic dates? I don't need a match.com I want to friend.com.  I don't meet people though work, and who i do meet, how do I make that next step, that "hey, we should hang out?" without seeming desperate, needy, clingy.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've been fortunate enough to become close with several of the friends in Apple Jacks friend group.  They've slowly become both our friends and I hang out with them without Apple Jacks.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Which is great, to have a new, different friend group than the one I had, but the one I had before has dispersed.  People have left, moved, faded away, and that's just how life goes.  So, there is a part of me that feels it's time to add more people to my posse, but how.... How do you meet new people? I'm not a go out there and do things alone type person... I don't have guts like that.  I took a writing class a few years back hoping to make some friends, but nothing came out of that.  I also had a book club with Ms. O and that faded and none of the friendships lasted from that.   Both a few years ago and with someone else recently, i also tried to rekindle a friendship with an old horse friend and both fizzled and faded rather quickly.  So.. how, i ask you, does a girl meet other girls?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, The Ma and I are looking into doing a training thing for a half marathon and vowing to socialize with others.  I've been on Craigslist responding to people's book clubs.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All in all, really.... how is it easier to date men than have a friend date with a girl!?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-4412069370580843366?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/4412069370580843366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=4412069370580843366&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4412069370580843366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4412069370580843366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/01/female-friends.html' title='Female Friends'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2264251076830204460</id><published>2008-01-01T20:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T21:09:27.908-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oma is 90</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3sVzRI1osI/AAAAAAAAAyY/NHwn8HbYpNU/s320/DSC_1061.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150734569346278082" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This fine women has lived on this fine earth 90 years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3sauxI1otI/AAAAAAAAAyg/WXtN9PyHNF0/s1600-h/DSC_1042.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3sauxI1otI/AAAAAAAAAyg/WXtN9PyHNF0/s320/DSC_1042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150739989595005650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Both Abbie and Grammy had a great time celebrating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3savBI1ouI/AAAAAAAAAyo/r70qEGjRtqQ/s1600-h/DSC_1080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3savBI1ouI/AAAAAAAAAyo/r70qEGjRtqQ/s320/DSC_1080.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150739993889972962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is 4 generation!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Abbie, me, cousin Summer, Grammy, aunt Marbe, and Oma&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/23307949-2264251076830204460?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2264251076830204460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2264251076830204460&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2264251076830204460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2264251076830204460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2008/01/oma-is-90.html' title='Oma is 90'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3sVzRI1osI/AAAAAAAAAyY/NHwn8HbYpNU/s72-c/DSC_1061.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1523166124837344182</id><published>2007-12-30T17:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T17:54:06.339-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Here are some Pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Family Room&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3hKuRI1opI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DCrL8G2YXWY/s1600-h/Family+Room.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3hKuRI1opI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DCrL8G2YXWY/s320/Family+Room.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149948332633072274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is mom and Abbie playing with Legos on Christmas Eve&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kitchen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3hKuhI1oqI/AAAAAAAAAyI/1SS1eKWxwgk/s1600-h/Kitchen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3hKuhI1oqI/AAAAAAAAAyI/1SS1eKWxwgk/s320/Kitchen.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149948336928039586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Across from the family room is the kitchen.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Living Room&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3hKuxI1orI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/K37OXQB9Gqo/s1600-h/Living+Room.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3hKuxI1orI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/K37OXQB9Gqo/s320/Living+Room.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149948341223006898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is my whole family enjoying cookies after Christmas Eve dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1523166124837344182?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1523166124837344182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1523166124837344182&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1523166124837344182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1523166124837344182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/12/here-are-some-pics.html' title='Here are some Pics'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R3hKuRI1opI/AAAAAAAAAyA/DCrL8G2YXWY/s72-c/Family+Room.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7331542326202376691</id><published>2007-12-23T17:15:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T17:20:53.358-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm in</title><content type='html'>Okay, &lt;br /&gt;I'm in my house.  All in.  I've spent two night and the heater is almost balanced... master bedroom is still a bit cold at night, but we're working on it.  Things feel good.  I have a Christmas tree up and am all ready for Christmas Eve.  And i know i said I would show pictures but saddly i have no clue where my camera is.  Not in the slightest.  But as soon as I find my camera or take pics with someone else's I'll put them up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7331542326202376691?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7331542326202376691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7331542326202376691&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7331542326202376691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7331542326202376691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/12/im-in.html' title='I&apos;m in'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5350431028972204590</id><published>2007-12-17T22:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T22:16:32.758-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Home Up Date</title><content type='html'>it's almost there... the house is almost there.  The floors are in but still a bit dirity, I'm working on that.  The carpet is in.  The deck is done.  The paint is done, I'm just in the process of the endless paint touch up.  Pictures are coming soon, but not until I'm in!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5350431028972204590?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5350431028972204590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5350431028972204590&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5350431028972204590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5350431028972204590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/12/home-up-date.html' title='Home Up Date'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6251876885279772908</id><published>2007-12-13T07:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T07:23:19.037-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://flyingstarz.com/db4/00358/flyingstarz.com/_uimages/IMGP0965.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://flyingstarz.com/db4/00358/flyingstarz.com/_uimages/IMGP0965.JPG" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, I've transfered to the light side.  I am the owner of a MacBook Pro.  After my desk top died and my lap top died in the tech guys office, I put my hands in the air and desided that now is the time to go Mac.  So far I like it.  I haven't figred it all out but I-photo! is so cool.  I also havn't had much time to play with it.  I've been SO busy, but i did finally find time for  shower, so that's a step.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6251876885279772908?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6251876885279772908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6251876885279772908&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6251876885279772908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6251876885279772908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/12/thats-right-ive-transfered-to-light.html' title=''/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7935208934444215728</id><published>2007-11-29T09:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T09:32:59.747-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Jones Factor</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R073b6TH29I/AAAAAAAAAw0/_FeQDmGbwkI/s1600-h/IMG_0052.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138316283754306514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R073b6TH29I/AAAAAAAAAw0/_FeQDmGbwkI/s320/IMG_0052.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is The Ma and I playing Indiana Jones.  She's in the back "holding up" the bolder and I'm running.  It was fun.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R073caTH2-I/AAAAAAAAAw8/NRg5qZft6hE/s1600-h/IMG_0054.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138316292344241122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R073caTH2-I/AAAAAAAAAw8/NRg5qZft6hE/s320/IMG_0054.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Don't worry, we went up the other way, not this way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R073daTH2_I/AAAAAAAAAxE/DXuO5rti-Pw/s1600-h/IMG_0055.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7935208934444215728?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7935208934444215728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7935208934444215728&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7935208934444215728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7935208934444215728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/11/jones-factor.html' title='The Jones Factor'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R073b6TH29I/AAAAAAAAAw0/_FeQDmGbwkI/s72-c/IMG_0052.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5304887612698815154</id><published>2007-11-27T20:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T20:49:25.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad F-ing Day</title><content type='html'>If you think you had a bad day, I think I get to trump that.  I turn on my desktop after a week of being gone, casually chatting on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;gmail&lt;/span&gt; to Tasha and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;wroop&lt;/span&gt; my computer shuts down and I see the blue screen of death.  I try rebooting it in several ways but nothing works.  Safe Mode. Blue screen bats that down.  Do the restart from previous date.  Smack, blue screen. Oh, but that's the start.  I am driving up a little hill to go tutor and my car turns off.  "weird" I think.  I turn the key and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;vroom&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;vroom&lt;/span&gt;, putter.  Nope, it dies.  I try again.  Nope it continues to be dead.  When he AAA man shows up he looks at me and goes "I bet you are wishing you didn't buy that car." Um, what booze smelling man?  Oh that's right you, Mr. AAA man, showed up in a normal tow truck... I have all wheel drive.  Not going to work so well.  So after he lays on the ground hitting my fuel pump while I rev my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;engine&lt;/span&gt; we give up and roll it down a hill and lock it up. Oh yes, the day well, at least it's over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5304887612698815154?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5304887612698815154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5304887612698815154&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5304887612698815154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5304887612698815154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/11/bad-f-ing-day.html' title='Bad F-ing Day'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3275750427442974570</id><published>2007-11-27T10:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T11:11:16.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving in Joshua Tree</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;This year I opped out of the family festivities and did Thanksgiving with Apple Jacks' side of the "family" (aka. his friends). For the past 18 years a group of people who went to college in Arizona have been coming out to J-Tree, as it's fondly called, to celibrate Thanksgiving with their substitute family. Most of them couldn't fly home for the four day holiday so they'd drove to Joshua Tree National Park to climb and eat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137594832327793522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R0xnR6TH23I/AAAAAAAAAwE/82CeBwTQS7E/s320/IMG_0084.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a great trip. Some of the group came out on Sunday, Apple Jacks and I came out on Tues night while most showed up Wed. There were about 20 people who camped and about 2/3 of them climbed. The rest socialized and hiked. Everyone was really friendly and positive. You could tell the "old timers" were happy to have some new blood but that never pulled away from the fact they were really there to see their old friends. As some stated, "Most of these people I only get to see once a year. That's here so I take advantiage of that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The climbing was sharp but I must admit I feel like I've been come a stronger climber in just those 5 short days. For those of you who aren't "up" on climbing terms I'll do a brief run down. Climbs are rated from 5.2 to 5.13. 2 is easy, like walking up a really steap hill, and 13 is like over hanging cliff that is smooth like butter. Some climbs have an added a, b, c, d rateing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137594849507662722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R0xnS6TH24I/AAAAAAAAAwM/IAVsA2akemQ/s320/IMG_0038.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Here I am on a face climb that was a 5.10&lt;/p&gt;Okay, the whole reason for that blurp is to brag. The first day we started with some easy climbs of 5.7 and 5.8, but we ended on a kick as crack. It's just what it sounds like, a crack going vertically up a rock face. At some points the crack was an inch and half wide, others it had a half centimeter lip. It was a 5.10d and I did it. It wasn't graceful or pretty but with some help and encouraging words I did it and I'm still proud of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137594866687531922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R0xnT6TH25I/AAAAAAAAAwU/0M2zhatikpQ/s320/IMG_0024.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here's Jen on a different crack climb. This was a 5.9&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Over all it was a good trip. I think all there had a good time. Thanksgiving was good, fried turky and stuffing and salad and potatos and sweet potatos. It was all great food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137598319841237938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R0xqc6TH27I/AAAAAAAAAwk/tunrUpjtmdU/s320/Dinner.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The spread!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137598324136205250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R0xqdKTH28I/AAAAAAAAAws/LnshIRB4doM/s320/At+The+Top.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;This is me at the top of Driving Limitations a fun 5.7&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137594875277466530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R0xnUaTH26I/AAAAAAAAAwc/kUEN-PU4MpM/s320/IMG_0014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3275750427442974570?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3275750427442974570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3275750427442974570&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3275750427442974570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3275750427442974570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/11/thanksgiving-in-joshua-tree.html' title='Thanksgiving in Joshua Tree'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/R0xnR6TH23I/AAAAAAAAAwE/82CeBwTQS7E/s72-c/IMG_0084.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2133222494456203644</id><published>2007-11-13T13:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T14:01:36.602-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hair</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RzoeiBBwdMI/AAAAAAAAAv0/hagKXdD5mb8/s1600-h/Chocolate.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RzoeiBBwdMI/AAAAAAAAAv0/hagKXdD5mb8/s320/Chocolate.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132448295082292418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I went and got my hair dyed... I'm not sure how I feel about it yet.  I've been dark before... but this is a little red for me... we'll see. It's just hair right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-2133222494456203644?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2133222494456203644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2133222494456203644&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2133222494456203644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2133222494456203644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/11/hair.html' title='Hair'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RzoeiBBwdMI/AAAAAAAAAv0/hagKXdD5mb8/s72-c/Chocolate.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5810499595573040351</id><published>2007-11-04T13:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T13:39:02.298-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Las Vegas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Ry454aiAjsI/AAAAAAAAAvs/NTNNAyIHb0c/s1600-h/Vegas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129100666978995906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Ry454aiAjsI/AAAAAAAAAvs/NTNNAyIHb0c/s320/Vegas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This weekend I was in Las Vegas for a horse show.  I did not stay any where near "the strip" and never left "campus" as we called the horse show and hotel facility.  Anyway, the show went well.  I rode constantly well.  I won my speed class on Saturday and for anyone who knows me they'll know speed is not my problem.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, the thing that I notices most about being in LV was the people.  It is the hubbub of middle class America.  Being in California 90% of the time I see a lot of Californians.  We are not fat people.  Maybe 1 out of every 20 Californians are slightly obese. In Vegas I understand the grotesqueness of America.  I saw more fat people and fat kids than i thought were out there.  People who's fat over flowed over the slot chairs.  People who's whole bodies waddled back and forth as they walked 'cause they couldn't bend their knees.  It was amazing.  No, it was appalling.  I just... eww... i just don't really understand how you can get that way.  How you can no longer see your toes let alone your crotch.  Do those men even know if they have penises any more? It's disturbing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The worst part is I wasn't even in the center of it all.  I was at the out skirts.  I'm not sure if that meant i got more morbidly obese because they wanted cheaper rooms, or less.  I'm not sure if standing at the elevator bays of the MGM Grand that you'd wonder if those five people could fit in one elevator.  I was recently in Vegas is April, on the strip, and i remember seeing fat people, but this weekend gave me a new level of understanding of the largeness of the United States.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5810499595573040351?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5810499595573040351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5810499595573040351&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5810499595573040351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5810499595573040351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/11/las-vegas.html' title='Las Vegas'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Ry454aiAjsI/AAAAAAAAAvs/NTNNAyIHb0c/s72-c/Vegas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-8347522720651007957</id><published>2007-11-01T16:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T16:50:46.871-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Ryplp6iAjpI/AAAAAAAAAvU/NN4BgqHUAIU/s1600-h/Halloween07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Ryplp6iAjpI/AAAAAAAAAvU/NN4BgqHUAIU/s320/Halloween07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128022896475672210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This year I took a different path.  I didn't do any glitter, just blood! It was fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RyplqKiAjqI/AAAAAAAAAvc/XdNjwFpDErE/s1600-h/V%26AHalloween07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RyplqKiAjqI/AAAAAAAAAvc/XdNjwFpDErE/s320/V%26AHalloween07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128022900770639522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Violet was a pea and Abbie enjoyed trick-0-treating and letting everyone know she was a fairy princess NOT an angel or butterfly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Ryplr6iAjrI/AAAAAAAAAvk/dl6XdQoBRQk/s1600-h/OhNo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Ryplr6iAjrI/AAAAAAAAAvk/dl6XdQoBRQk/s320/OhNo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128022930835410610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Oh My God, who let the vampire hold the baby!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RyplBaiAjoI/AAAAAAAAAvM/jh71Q3kbQLE/s1600-h/OhNo.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-8347522720651007957?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/8347522720651007957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=8347522720651007957&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8347522720651007957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8347522720651007957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/11/happy-halloween.html' title='Happy Halloween'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Ryplp6iAjpI/AAAAAAAAAvU/NN4BgqHUAIU/s72-c/Halloween07.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3454450689767122121</id><published>2007-10-16T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T12:44:28.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tasha's Visit</title><content type='html'>I know I'm a week late for this post but I've been busy. The next posts will put it into perspective.  &lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Tasha was here, we shopped, drank, got massaged, sailed, and hung out. She sent me some pictures:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/UrbanPA/TashaSVisit"&gt;check them out&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3454450689767122121?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3454450689767122121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3454450689767122121&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3454450689767122121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3454450689767122121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/10/tashas-visit.html' title='Tasha&apos;s Visit'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5828376558990442070</id><published>2007-10-09T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T12:45:40.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The ending</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure why I picked that title but hopfully by the time you reach the ending of this post you'll have some sort of understanding. Ms. T came out to sunny california for a visit. We haven't seen eachother for over a year. If you look back on my blog and her blog you'll  see that we've both changed a fair amount in that year. Change is good, healthy, &amp; normal. We both lead lives that are not only drastically different than eachother's lives but also from the life we shared in college. &lt;br /&gt;Having not seen Ms. T for so long I wanted to make sure we had a good time, did everything she wanted to do,  enjoy eachother and give her a view and possible an understanding of my life. I'd worked hard over the past few weeks looking up craft shops, bars, spas, ect for our activities. I recruited friends to join us and apple jacks to participate, taking us out on his sailboat to watch the blue angels. after all of that planning... its done. Ms. T is on a plane home. I'm back to small children and mailing packages. Part of me is happy to have some time too myself (all of 36 hours). Another part is exhausted and wants to go to bed. yet, there is still a part of me that feels empty. dispite some drama and stress that started off the trip the end of it all feels heavy and anticlimactic. I want to be wrapped in a big warm hug... I want hot coco with marshmallows... I want to sit and read and knit... I want to wallow in this heavy blanket of self pitty, doubt, lonlyness, emptyness, and anticlimactic drama. But I won't. It is the end of Ms. T's visit but there are 6000 things I have to do. Teachers to sub for, kids to tutor, people to see, legs to wax, toes to paint, stuff to pack and wash before NY on Wed. An end always make the beginning of something else... right.  I just want something Obama, that's the name of my Drama Llama, free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5828376558990442070?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5828376558990442070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5828376558990442070&amp;isPopup=true' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5828376558990442070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5828376558990442070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/10/ending.html' title='The ending'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-781538022120849047</id><published>2007-09-19T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T20:49:14.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My House</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I've been remodeling my house, well my parents and my house.  I've been avoiding going down to it for several reasons, time, time, time.  That and I wanted to see a CHANGE not a slow progression.  So tonight I stopped by.  Last time I was there, walls were up and the roof had just been put on, no skylights, no windows, no doors. &lt;br /&gt;Tonight, I stopped by.  Now, I don't have children, but seeing this house is like watching a child grow up.  I'm seeing it become, go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;beyond&lt;/span&gt; my expectations.  I walk through, looking at the closet, looking at the skylights, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;sliding&lt;/span&gt; doors, the bathtubs, and I'm proud. I'm excited.  I can't wait until the next step is done! I can't wait to see the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Sheetrock&lt;/span&gt; go up, the floor go down, the kitchen cabinets go in.  See it grow and change into everything I imagined it to be. &lt;br /&gt;For anyone who's an artist, who's poured their heart, tears, anger, (and parents' blood sweat and tears) into something to see it become everything you've hopped.  I'm so excited! No Pictures! Not until it looks like a house and no longer a construction site!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-781538022120849047?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/781538022120849047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=781538022120849047&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/781538022120849047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/781538022120849047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/09/my-house.html' title='My House'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2905474842678066026</id><published>2007-09-13T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T20:46:00.974-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Class</title><content type='html'>I've spent my first day back in a classroom.  I was lucky it was only a half day of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;kindergarten&lt;/span&gt; class of 15 kids.  It let me ease in.  I have a few more days books to sub already.  Back into the swing of things I guess.  Schools back in and summer is gone.  I now no longer tutor kids in the ease of mid morning, I now have kids from 3:30pm until 8pm three days a week.  For most this is not a long day, but were talking about me here.  I still have one other job to fill in those 6 working hours, it's going well, and i time suck of a hobby.  I'm not bitching here, I'm just writing.... the season is changing and busy is back.  And it's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;hopefully&lt;/span&gt; going to be less of train wreck then Britney. &lt;br /&gt;Ah well, the day went well.  My voice is horse, my back aches and it's all a good feeling again.  The information about kids that sits in my head that I don't use that comes out when I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;in front&lt;/span&gt; of kids amazes me.  I'm glad I've still got it.  I'm glad there is a small part of me that misses it.  I'm glad I didn't apply to jobs this year.  I think that would have burnt me out.  So &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;hopefully&lt;/span&gt; it will be a good year not too full of subbing but just enough to keep me busy.... busier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-2905474842678066026?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2905474842678066026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2905474842678066026&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2905474842678066026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2905474842678066026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/09/class.html' title='Class'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5254685379760340152</id><published>2007-09-11T12:23:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-11T12:23:52.090-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Violet Urban</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RubrQObbn7I/AAAAAAAAAXM/Ta3MOOKsgJQ/s1600-h/Violet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109029491281993650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RubrQObbn7I/AAAAAAAAAXM/Ta3MOOKsgJQ/s320/Violet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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/23307949-5254685379760340152?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5254685379760340152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5254685379760340152&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5254685379760340152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5254685379760340152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/09/violet-urban.html' title='Violet Urban'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RubrQObbn7I/AAAAAAAAAXM/Ta3MOOKsgJQ/s72-c/Violet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3623284722150887036</id><published>2007-09-09T20:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T21:25:49.892-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NEWS!!!</title><content type='html'>Lots has happened.&lt;br /&gt;Apple Jacks and I have been dating a year! Who'd a Thunk. We had one of the best &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;anniversaries&lt;/span&gt; I've ever had. He took me to a great dinner and surprised me with tickets to the one and only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Silversun&lt;/span&gt; Pickups! He &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;even&lt;/span&gt; bought them early (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;having&lt;/span&gt; to sign up on a radio website) so they wouldn't sell out!!! Thank You Babe!&lt;br /&gt;We &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Urbans&lt;/span&gt; welcome Violet to the world. That's right, my sister-in-law, Amy, popped and the baby.  This one was  born when she was due and not three days late and three pounds heavier like Abbie.&lt;br /&gt;I went to a track event and it was wonderfully uneventful! I've realised I can't make my car go any faster without putting more money into it. Ugh, too many expensive hobbies.&lt;br /&gt;I went to Iowa and came back. I saw Emily and Steve. Meet their dog &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Rudra&lt;/span&gt;. I saw a lot of corn and sadly no glow bugs, but all my back east friends say that's good, 'cause I'd only see them if it was humid.&lt;br /&gt;I think that's it... but the first two are big, not to under cut the last two.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3623284722150887036?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3623284722150887036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3623284722150887036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3623284722150887036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3623284722150887036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/09/news.html' title='NEWS!!!'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-4344320288002939211</id><published>2007-08-27T12:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-27T12:25:01.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Phantom Spires</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RtMjxebbn5I/AAAAAAAAAWk/uIi3Yysm1mU/s1600-h/phantom+spires.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103462135629586322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RtMjxebbn5I/AAAAAAAAAWk/uIi3Yysm1mU/s320/phantom+spires.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here's a long shot of the Phantom Spires.  They're rather impressive.  The drive there, well lets say it was a challenge for a manual Audi with a 3 inch clearance.  Yeah, I don't want to see what the bottom of my car looks like, but it was good climbing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RtMjgObbn3I/AAAAAAAAAWU/WYEowwGkWSQ/s1600-h/FuckthatChickenhead.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103461839276842866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RtMjgObbn3I/AAAAAAAAAWU/WYEowwGkWSQ/s320/FuckthatChickenhead.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here I am on one of the climbs.  My left foot is up by my butt on this big knob (chicken head).  This rough was fondly renamed by our group as, Fuck That Chicken Head. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RtMjgubbn4I/AAAAAAAAAWc/jiPQhMxVQBg/s1600-h/So+Tiered.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103461847866777474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RtMjgubbn4I/AAAAAAAAAWc/jiPQhMxVQBg/s320/So+Tiered.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here is the exhausted after effect of that big move I did.  Love the rock and it might just love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-4344320288002939211?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/4344320288002939211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=4344320288002939211&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4344320288002939211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/4344320288002939211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/08/phantom-spires.html' title='Phantom Spires'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RtMjxebbn5I/AAAAAAAAAWk/uIi3Yysm1mU/s72-c/phantom+spires.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7660599745654680594</id><published>2007-08-12T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-12T19:23:03.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Menlo</title><content type='html'>The Menlo Horse Show is rated that #1 horse show in Northern California.  It's the only show in NorCal on grass.  Jumps are sponsored, prizes are sponsored, and most importantly you get prizes to 3rd.  1st could be anything from a Tiffany's Box to a silver tray, 2nd is jellybeans, and 3rd is horse cookies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rr--pIZNS9I/AAAAAAAAAWE/I_GHpZNbzVw/s1600-h/stella3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098002917043817426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rr--pIZNS9I/AAAAAAAAAWE/I_GHpZNbzVw/s320/stella3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here is Stella and I doing the 4'6" A/O Jumpers.  These were some of the biggest I've ever jumped (maybe not this one but it is a good picture).  The last jump of my class on Sunday was easily 5ft.  I couldn't see over it when I was walking. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rr--pYZNS-I/AAAAAAAAAWM/UpsjLGfrU_0/s1600-h/aundramatt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098002921338784738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rr--pYZNS-I/AAAAAAAAAWM/UpsjLGfrU_0/s320/aundramatt.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here's Matt and I with the garb I won't for being the best out of my division.  A chair, some ribbons, a gift certificate to a horse website, and a framed Hermes scarf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7660599745654680594?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7660599745654680594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7660599745654680594&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7660599745654680594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7660599745654680594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/08/menlo.html' title='Menlo'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rr--pIZNS9I/AAAAAAAAAWE/I_GHpZNbzVw/s72-c/stella3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-753285248323839666</id><published>2007-08-06T16:19:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T16:19:25.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blackfish Lodge Family Fishing Trip Photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/UrbanPA/BlackfishLodgeFamilyFishingTrip"&gt;http://picasaweb.google.com/UrbanPA/BlackfishLodgeFamilyFishingTrip&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-753285248323839666?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/753285248323839666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=753285248323839666&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/753285248323839666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/753285248323839666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/08/blackfish-lodge-family-fishing-trip.html' title='Blackfish Lodge Family Fishing Trip Photos'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-921831531310793730</id><published>2007-08-06T16:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T16:18:38.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jury duty</title><content type='html'>It's 9:00am on a Tuesday morning and here I am, sitting waiting for jury duty to start with almost 80 other people here. There are big people, skinny old people who look like they don't have teeth. Young trendy people. Two priests. Three men in ties. And half a dozen or so asleep, with their heads balanced on the wall or their chest.&lt;br /&gt;The florescent lights penetrate the air. The noise of throat clearing, pages, turning and the vending machine air compressor humming. The droning feeling makes my eyes heavy, my thought light.&lt;br /&gt;There is a women, in periwinkle blue, that sits across from me. He butt is squeeze into those jeans that are an unnatural denim blue, tapering at the ankles to show her black socks and white running shoes, though she obviously doesn't run. Her upper thighs spill over the edge of the chair. Her loosely fitted shirt shows her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;bulges&lt;/span&gt; above and below her bra. The short sleeves show her upper arm fat cascading over her elbow.&lt;br /&gt;Her hair is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;mousey&lt;/span&gt; with hints of gray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-921831531310793730?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/921831531310793730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=921831531310793730&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/921831531310793730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/921831531310793730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/08/jury-duty.html' title='Jury duty'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-160650843782157682</id><published>2007-07-25T15:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T16:03:44.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pebble Week 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Yes, I have mentioned Pebble Beach as horse show a few times already, but I'm back for two weeks.   Week 1 went well, other than the day Apple Jacks came to watch.  For some reason he has yet to see me ride as well as I'd been riding the days before... is he bad luck, brings a bad vibe to my horse shows... hmmm, I'm guessing Menlo might truly test that.&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RqfVgYZNRuI/AAAAAAAAAH8/jzmTm9ecyZQ/s1600-h/stellath3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091272656046343906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RqfVgYZNRuI/AAAAAAAAAH8/jzmTm9ecyZQ/s320/stellath3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Anyways, here's my first day, with a relaxed Stella jumping the dog fence which was meant to be 4'6" but wasn't quite. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RqfVgoZNRvI/AAAAAAAAAIE/wxuYCbiLi30/s1600-h/aundraribbon2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091272660341311218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RqfVgoZNRvI/AAAAAAAAAIE/wxuYCbiLi30/s320/aundraribbon2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is me getting second in the $10,000 4ft Derby.  I'm totally excited about it because the guy who won (he was the only other person in the jump off {that's the part that "counts"} with two horses but he had 5 horses in the whole class, meaning only 2 of those 5 made it to the jump off) did it on his world cup, 5' jumps, horse.  Hmmm... So yeah, I'm a) not a professional b) not jumping 5' c) and I only had 1 horse in the class and I got second.  Hells Yeah! Now I just have to bring it next week.&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/23307949-160650843782157682?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/160650843782157682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=160650843782157682&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/160650843782157682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/160650843782157682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/07/pebble-week-1.html' title='Pebble Week 1'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RqfVgYZNRuI/AAAAAAAAAH8/jzmTm9ecyZQ/s72-c/stellath3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2383230749705464910</id><published>2007-07-12T14:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T14:10:26.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Asbestos</title><content type='html'>I am not talking about the chemical, I'm talking about the cat.  My family's cat.  She died today at the ripe old age of 21.  She was a great cat, I wanted to name her pussy, but luckily my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wiser&lt;/span&gt; older brothers stopped me.  We actually thought she died before.  She had been missing for several days and we found a tuft of orange fur in the back yard.  We assumed she was attacked by a coyote and buried the remaining fur and skin.  A few days later in limped Asbestos.  "The Cat Came Back" song had never been to true, or more played after that day.  Her meow was also never the same. &lt;br /&gt;She's been banished to the attic for 14 years (my mom became allergic when we came back from Switzerland) and has made it her happy home.  At one point she weighed over 20 lb, her belly almost dragging on the ground, but once we stopped giving her mixing bowls of food she lost weight.  She would drool when you pet her and would purr whenever she was around you.   She is a great cat and will be dearly missed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-2383230749705464910?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2383230749705464910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2383230749705464910&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2383230749705464910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2383230749705464910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/07/asbestos.html' title='Asbestos'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-9018409010363853179</id><published>2007-07-02T16:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T16:54:23.842-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The 80's Revisited</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RomP0qPdQPI/AAAAAAAAAHs/rnOwTjVQ1HQ/s1600-h/80s.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RomP0qPdQPI/AAAAAAAAAHs/rnOwTjVQ1HQ/s320/80s.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082751789319405810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;That's right we were sporting leg warmers, side pony tails and sckrunchies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RomP06PdQQI/AAAAAAAAAH0/yz2XOAyLhNQ/s1600-h/80s2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RomP06PdQQI/AAAAAAAAAH0/yz2XOAyLhNQ/s320/80s2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082751793614373122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mmmmm, wine coolers (they taste like juice and are really cheep... but not very strong).  Can you get more 80s. Oh and blue eye shadow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-9018409010363853179?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/9018409010363853179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=9018409010363853179&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/9018409010363853179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/9018409010363853179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/07/80s-revisited.html' title='The 80&apos;s Revisited'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RomP0qPdQPI/AAAAAAAAAHs/rnOwTjVQ1HQ/s72-c/80s.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-8356460196746896903</id><published>2007-06-23T08:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-26T08:53:44.878-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Up</title><content type='html'>This week has been a week of self reflection. Last Friday, a friend of mine asked me if I'd had my quarter life crises yet.  Then on Monday night, jokingly, another friend of mine asked me, "What are your long terms goals?" Having both those questions be put to me during a weekend of a big wedding and my parents 40th anniversary, it made me think about me, and who I am, and what I want from myself.&lt;br /&gt;As people always say, I want to become a better person. This is more then just feeding the homeless and saving puppies. I want to be more complete (roughly the idea of my tatoo). The people around me have always added to my completeness. Now wait, I did not say that they MAKE me complete that's totally different. The people around me show me things that make me better. Hold up a mirror and say, "hey, look, you do it too" or "do you know how that came across?" And I think that's what true family and friends are for.&lt;br /&gt;It's been a mirror looking week. And what have a seen? I've seen someone who wants to be flexible and understanding, but tends to be just as stuck in her ways the same way as any other 26 year old.&lt;br /&gt;I've been working too hard, as of late, to "help" the people around me, to make them better people, that I haven't looked at myself. I've also forgotten that I'm looking at my friends though the glasses of what I want, not necessarily what is best for them or who they are. I want to be a more understanding person, but I have to remember that I want to be more understanding of my friends, too, not just strangers.&lt;br /&gt;It's not easy growing up and getting more set in your ways. When you're little, you want to absorb everything you can, but when you reach mid 20's you're a full sponge and it's much harder to ring a little bit of water out to make room for something new then it is to just shed it away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-8356460196746896903?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/8356460196746896903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=8356460196746896903&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8356460196746896903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8356460196746896903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/06/growing-up.html' title='Growing Up'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1798835292089775433</id><published>2007-06-20T22:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T22:34:15.022-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Silversun pickups Rusted wheel</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;object height='350' width='425'&gt;&lt;param value='http://youtube.com/v/4Lq_0e349b4' name='movie'&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed height='350' width='425' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' src='http://youtube.com/v/4Lq_0e349b4'&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is my favorite song!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1798835292089775433?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1798835292089775433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1798835292089775433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1798835292089775433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1798835292089775433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/06/silversun-pickups-rusted-wheel.html' title='Silversun pickups Rusted wheel'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-6825147002056713633</id><published>2007-06-19T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T22:07:46.168-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding # 2 in '07</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077972708567263938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RniVRjFHqsI/AAAAAAAAAHM/FNXUYb09TF0/s320/DSCN0201.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Here I am walking down isle in my sage green dress. We practiaced serval times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077972712862231250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RniVRzFHqtI/AAAAAAAAAHU/fic2k39EmhU/s320/DSCN0203.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Standing still, in some UGLY pink shose but I'm standing still, that's hard for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077972708567263922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RniVRjFHqrI/AAAAAAAAAHE/jBl71lJKSMg/s320/DSCN0206.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, a wedding. The bride in white, tears rolling down her cheeks and the groom paying careful attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RniVSDFHquI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Gr_mdXTBWQo/s1600-h/DSCN0204.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077972717157198562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RniVSDFHquI/AAAAAAAAAHc/Gr_mdXTBWQo/s320/DSCN0204.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Ah, aren't we a sage bunch! Yeah, that's right, I was the bridesmaid at the end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RniVSjFHqvI/AAAAAAAAAHk/ks-CEJirT9c/s1600-h/DSCN0211.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5077972725747133170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RniVSjFHqvI/AAAAAAAAAHk/ks-CEJirT9c/s320/DSCN0211.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The new happy couple, Lindsay and Matt Archer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-6825147002056713633?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/6825147002056713633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=6825147002056713633&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6825147002056713633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/6825147002056713633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/06/wedding-2-in-07.html' title='Wedding # 2 in &apos;07'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/RniVRjFHqsI/AAAAAAAAAHM/FNXUYb09TF0/s72-c/DSCN0201.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-188360661840624791</id><published>2007-06-10T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-10T20:07:27.892-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A pass on</title><content type='html'>Just so everyone knows (all 5 people that read this), my sister-in-law has started posting on her blog again.  Reaching the third trimester of her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;pregnancy&lt;/span&gt;, she has found a bit of energy to post.  I wanted to encourage you to go read it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-188360661840624791?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/188360661840624791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=188360661840624791&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/188360661840624791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/188360661840624791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/06/pass-on.html' title='A pass on'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-5195900072848141996</id><published>2007-05-22T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-22T13:53:39.789-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthdays</title><content type='html'>So Apple Jacks had his birthday yesterday.  He's not even older than me... meaning we're back to being 7 years apart and no longer 6.  Anyway, he's about as into birthdays as he was into every other holiday that's passed.  He pushed me away for Thanksgiving and sulked around for Christmas and made little effort for Valentines Day (though that one is &lt;em&gt;almost&lt;/em&gt; understandable 'cause it is only 6 days before my birthday).  To give him some holiday credit he did try on my birthday. And now it's his turn.  "I don't deserve anything." "Don't get my anything." "You know I'm just going to be disappointed with whatever you get me." Ah, do we all love the faith, optimism, and over all cheer!&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday, after a good 15 min of him shaking the gift and guessing multiple climbing and motorcycle things he thought might be inside, he pensively took off the ribbon (no paper, I didn't want to go over board) and peeled back the tape.  As the few seconds of recognition go by and he realizes what it is, he smiles.  He looks at me with an open jaw and corners turned up and says "You shouldn't have." He pulls out the Chrome mess anger bag, red and gray to match his motorcycle suit.  "I was trying these on the other day, how'd you know?"&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know, I just remembered that back in December he mentioned that he REALLY liked them and was hemming and hawing about getting one. &lt;br /&gt;That's right Mr. Apple Jacks, I do know you and though the gift isn't perfect (we're not sure if the size is right yet) it still hit the nail on the head!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-5195900072848141996?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/5195900072848141996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=5195900072848141996&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5195900072848141996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/5195900072848141996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/05/birthdays.html' title='Birthdays'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2483381353049543939</id><published>2007-05-16T14:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-16T15:06:03.856-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My House</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I once lived in this little house. I had a roommate with two cats. I had a car port where my Audi could sleep at night. The kitchen once looked like this:&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065280096479827346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rkt9aSaJVZI/AAAAAAAAAGs/oRpzEsZY9yo/s320/Cab2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But no longer... now it's more like this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065282024920143266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rkt_KiaJVaI/AAAAAAAAAG0/4YaC044mpgA/s320/DSCN0184.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, over to the left was the kitchen... or I guess is the kitchen because that's where it is going back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;No, I don't live in Kansas. This destruction is volentary. This is all part of the remodel. Well, this too:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065282866733733298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rkt_7iaJVbI/AAAAAAAAAG8/QyAYaF9G_Hw/s320/DSCN0185.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was the window wall to the master bedroom... but that's getting bigger so that's been removed.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fun, fun I know, but at least now we have a building permit.  Yes, we stared demo before we had permision from the county to build... it's time saving right?&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/23307949-2483381353049543939?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2483381353049543939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2483381353049543939&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2483381353049543939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2483381353049543939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-house.html' title='My House'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rkt9aSaJVZI/AAAAAAAAAGs/oRpzEsZY9yo/s72-c/Cab2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-8323111503115183110</id><published>2007-05-15T21:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T21:33:19.780-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>I'm a time person.  My clock in my car is 5 min fast.  I can probably count the times I've been late to ANYTHING the past couple months on one hand.  If I am ever late I call.  I have this one family I tutor for and there are times she is late and she always calls a good 5-10 min before our scheduled time, tells me where she is, and about how much longer until she's home with her kids.  If my trainers are going to be late for a lesson  they always call me about 15-30 min before my lesson to tell me how late.  I have no issue with being late.  It happens, traffic, lost track of time, something you're doing took longer than you though, you were folding underwear and just wanted to get it done.  I understand, it's normal, but it's rude not to communicate your tardiness to the people who are waiting for you.  It implies that your time is more valuable than others, that your time is so much more important that you can't call them so they can do their own valuable things with their own time.  It's just rude, inconsiderate, and selfish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-8323111503115183110?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/8323111503115183110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=8323111503115183110&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8323111503115183110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/8323111503115183110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/05/time.html' title='Time'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7153092841920584248</id><published>2007-05-11T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-11T09:54:59.532-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Job</title><content type='html'>So I don't often bitch about my job.  It's a great job.  I have no issues going to the store and picking out tomatos.  I have no issues hunting down the top of a BBQ or making dinner reservations.  Nothing I DO for my job bugs me.  It's daily bullshit and if I get paid to do it fine with me.  But today is wine moving day.  Movers are coming to take a 7' x 5' x 3' wine fridge up to Napa.  Inside this wine fridge is a couple hundred bottels of wine.  No worries, I got wine boxes from every local liquer store that was willing to give them (F YOU BevMo).  Yesterday, my boss says, "Hey, so I'll call you tonight and let you know when they are coming to get the fridge so we can start packing wine." 10:30pm last night... no call.  Okay, I'll keep the phone near me and she'll call me in the morning. 8:30am I wake up... no call.  Check my "work" e-mail... no messge.  Okay, I take a shower get dressed, eat breakfast... call her... no answer... no cell answer.  AHHH! I could have gone for a run (in hind sight).  I could have slept more (way more likely).  But now it's 10am and she calls.  "Oh I didn't want to wake you." (As I said how can I really bitch about this job.)  Such is life right.  As Apple Jacks said... roll with the bunches.  Also, "Don't get the Urban... we don't play well with others attitude." No, us Urbans' we don't have that... um no... we are great at team sports like... well badmitin... horseback riding... car racing... tennis... wreseling... wait those aren't team sports... DAMN.  Well, we work for others like... let see I have... 1 out of my 20+ second level relitives that works for someone else... Hmmm the others they work for themselves.  Well, okay so maybe I should roll with the bunches and do my best to put my Urban differences aside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7153092841920584248?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7153092841920584248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7153092841920584248&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7153092841920584248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7153092841920584248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-job.html' title='My Job'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1055408457950374564</id><published>2007-05-06T23:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T23:09:38.928-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Fancy Phone</title><content type='html'>I never tought there was such a thing as being too connected when it comes to technology, but i am. my phone is with me almost all the time unless i'm on a horse, on a plane or teaching in a classroom. i also have access to all three of my email accounts... this makes me expect the same from others. I email you I expect a response in 2 hr. I text you... same deal if not a shorter time frame responce. this makes me impashent which makes me "make" those people I communicate with lives difficult... ugh what is convenient for me seems to not be for others!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1055408457950374564?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1055408457950374564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1055408457950374564&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1055408457950374564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1055408457950374564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-fancy-phone.html' title='My Fancy Phone'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-2848695217466511338</id><published>2007-04-26T20:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T20:08:36.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeans vs Shoes</title><content type='html'>Why is it I will spend a lump sum on shoes but not jeans?  I'll wear the jeans about 100 times more than the shoes but $100 on cute shoes, that I put on and love... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; think once, but never twice.  But jeans... I've worn though two pairs of jeans in the past month and I have a third pair on their way out. So now I'm here looking for a pair to replace the pair I love so much that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;I've&lt;/span&gt; had for 5 years... but it's so hard.  Fucking jeans!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-2848695217466511338?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/2848695217466511338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=2848695217466511338&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2848695217466511338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/2848695217466511338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/04/jeans-vs-shoes.html' title='Jeans vs Shoes'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-7938639134072966782</id><published>2007-04-18T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T21:32:51.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SSPU</title><content type='html'>The AMAZING&lt;a href="http://www.mtv.com/overdrive/?id=1550406&amp;vid=130682"&gt; Silversun Pickups&lt;/a&gt;! I'm sorry for the V-cast ad, but really Rusted Wheel... one of my FAVORITE songs (though I'm not sure any of these videos give them any justice).  They made the Shins look like a garage band.  One thing this video doesn't show is their stage presence.  He made it feel like they were playing for you.   And check out the drumer's symbol like 6 feet in the air.  He was mesmerizing to watch.  If you have the chance go see them.  If you don't love them I'll pay for your f-ing ticket (not really but you know what I mean).  And yes, you can ask anyone if the bay who saw both shows.  The Shins were a sad state in comparison.  Not bad on their own but really... really!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-7938639134072966782?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/7938639134072966782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=7938639134072966782&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7938639134072966782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/7938639134072966782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/04/sspu.html' title='SSPU'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1547298280456286698</id><published>2007-04-02T08:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T08:25:59.295-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pebble Beach</title><content type='html'>So, I wrote this little blog on my fancy cell phone all ready to send it but for some reason the publish button wasn't working so... sadly I'm not writing this while breathing in the freash ocean air and watching the waves crash on the rocks.  But this past weekend was the first time in 20 years of showing at Pebble Beach that I went to the beach while I was there.  It was nice.&lt;br /&gt;But what was nice was that I won the $5000 Open Jumper Stake.  This was a class open to professioal and non professionals like me.  Well, yes I won.  I didn't will $5000 so don't come asking me for money but I did get a nice chunk that should pay for most of the show.  I did beat both my trainers as well as a few other "big" NorCal trainers.  I was (and still am) super excited.  What a way to start a show year! Well, that and Lindsay and Matt have been kicking my as of late so I guess it's paying off and I'm kicking ass right back!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1547298280456286698?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1547298280456286698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1547298280456286698&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1547298280456286698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1547298280456286698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/04/pebble-beach.html' title='Pebble Beach'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1666629737139680725</id><published>2007-03-28T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-28T14:26:09.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You Know There are Still Stupid People in the World... but not anymore</title><content type='html'>Tests found a bunch medications in Anna Nicole Smith's blood, including a sedative called chloral hydrate (used sometime to traqualize horses), benzodiazepines, methadone (which killed her son), Valium, Tylenol, weight-loss drugs (Trim Spa?), vitamin B-12 (suposidly part of an anit-ageing process), over-the-counter anti-flu tablets, antibiotics and human growth hormone(?!?!?!).  Dear god, they won't even need to embalm her body... she already did it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.&gt; yes, a bit heartless, but really who puts all this in their body (plus &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;probably&lt;/span&gt; more that is undetectable) and expects to stay alive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1666629737139680725?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1666629737139680725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1666629737139680725&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1666629737139680725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1666629737139680725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/03/you-know-there-are-still-stupid-people.html' title='You Know There are Still Stupid People in the World... but not anymore'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-3691346213180190993</id><published>2007-03-23T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T08:42:13.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>That's right Baby Adorable and Innocent (hehehe)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:+0;"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.seductiveshorts.com/#goods/quiz"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.seductiveshorts.com/images/blogs/bubble.gif" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-3691346213180190993?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/3691346213180190993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=3691346213180190993&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3691346213180190993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/3691346213180190993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/03/thats-right-baby-adorable-and-innocent.html' title='That&apos;s right Baby Adorable and Innocent (hehehe)'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1791274287800763888</id><published>2007-03-20T19:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T19:53:46.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The X and my mom</title><content type='html'>Okay, for those of you know have read this blog before you've seen the name Mr. B cross over the screen.  Mr. B was my high school sweetheart.  We were best friends for a good long while before we technically dated.  In this time period Mr. B became a member of my family.  Even after we broke up (March or April my Freshman year) (after three months of not talking and him dating another girl, one he had been "talking to" before we broke up.) we were friends.  We'd talk about all types of things, but mostly horses.  Last spring, after a six year long "friendship", I had reached the final straw with him.  He had told my mother about his new girlfriend before me.... well no, it was after that, it was when he moved in with this new girlfriend after only a month, oh yes, and i heard that from my mother as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flash forward to today:&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, mom."&lt;br /&gt;"Hi.  I was talking to your/our neighbor and found out her daughter (was my best friend in 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade) is engaged."&lt;br /&gt;"Well, good for her.  She was with the guy a while right." (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ie&lt;/span&gt;: PLEASE no pressure!)&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, and she's getting her PhD.  Oh, and talking about engagements, I talked to Mr. B, since we are head to LA I thought we could get lunch of something, and he proposed to A over the weekend."&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, really."&lt;br /&gt;"I mean, they've been living together for almost a year."(Oh, and dating about a year... fun fun)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I think... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hmmm&lt;/span&gt; well if he is going to invite my mom to the wedding... how weird would it be if he didn't invite me?  Oh, I bet they'll make some no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ex's&lt;/span&gt; pact and that's why I wouldn't be invited but my mom would.  "We said nothing about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ex's&lt;/span&gt; parents."  But would I want to go anyways? I know my mom would go....&lt;br /&gt;FUCKING WEIRD!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1791274287800763888?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1791274287800763888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1791274287800763888&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1791274287800763888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1791274287800763888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/03/x-and-my-mom.html' title='The X and my mom'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23307949.post-1243840313415751826</id><published>2007-03-18T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-18T16:57:24.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes, A Bahamas Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Yes, my sister-in-law set me pictures from the bahamas and they're too cute to not post, so here they are.&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3Qpkqh46I/AAAAAAAAAGA/f7xBRf2t_28/s1600-h/Abbie%27s+Favorite+Activity.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043416570360095650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3Qpkqh46I/AAAAAAAAAGA/f7xBRf2t_28/s320/Abbie%27s+Favorite+Activity.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Abbie's favorite thing to do was wash her feet.  Over and Over and Over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3Qp0qh47I/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZWkhCIyRZS8/s1600-h/Coconut+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043416574655062962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3Qp0qh47I/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZWkhCIyRZS8/s320/Coconut+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This was the coconut we found on the ground a little unripe.  It got dropped and cracked.  So we worked hard to try to open it all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3Qp0qh48I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/OsJyZs9Ppzg/s1600-h/Coconut+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043416574655062978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3Qp0qh48I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/OsJyZs9Ppzg/s320/Coconut+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Tao worked extra har.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3QqEqh49I/AAAAAAAAAGY/evECwF-Or7w/s1600-h/Coconut+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043416578950030290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3QqEqh49I/AAAAAAAAAGY/evECwF-Or7w/s320/Coconut+3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; But we got it done! To bad it was so unripe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3QqUqh4-I/AAAAAAAAAGg/j0sXkyJLMsw/s1600-h/At+the+National+Park.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043416583244997602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3QqUqh4-I/AAAAAAAAAGg/j0sXkyJLMsw/s320/At+the+National+Park.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; And this is us the the National Park... walking along the path, very slowly... 'cause bugs and lizards are very scary and she didn't want her picture taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23307949-1243840313415751826?l=horsescarsme.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/feeds/1243840313415751826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23307949&amp;postID=1243840313415751826&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1243840313415751826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23307949/posts/default/1243840313415751826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://horsescarsme.blogspot.com/2007/03/yes-bahamas-two.html' title='Yes, A Bahamas Two'/><author><name>Aundra</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07821200746147124040</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/SFx2EgYu93I/AAAAAAAAA64/ZZlfN9z8M_8/S220/IMG_0497.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_46NKSgEjP-0/Rf3Qpkqh46I/AAAAAAAAAGA/f7xBRf2t_28/s72-c/Abbie%27s+Favorite+Activity.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
