<?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-7932349425674956331</id><updated>2012-02-16T09:38:40.591-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dottie</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-5608761007930675672</id><published>2009-07-25T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T14:31:52.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A walk in the neighborhood</title><content type='html'>When I was a child, I remember walking in my neighborhood with  my grandmother. She was patience with  me as I stopped numerous times to exclaim over various trees, flowers, nuts, their beauty, size or shape. I pointed out the blue of the sky and we guessed at what the cloud shapes looked like to each of us. She walked me past several factories and we delighted in the smell of the bakery one in particular. Further along, we came to the building where the trolley ended and when the doors were open wide and no activity going on, we were able to peek and the big railings inside where the trolleys were actually turned and sent back in the opposite direction. That was fun to see and wonder at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As an adult, I can remember walking in the same neighborhood on my way to the subway station. I would hurry along, always a little behind schedule and not really paying much attention to my surroundings. I'm sure the pretty flowers,  lively green trees and beautiful blue sky painted with white puffy clouds were still there but I never took the time to examine them and enjoy. It seemed there was too much to do, too much in a rush to get somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now as a senior citizen, I walk my neighborhood this time with my eyes downcast, watching for cracks in the sidewalk or small twigs that could trip me and make me fall (God forbade to break a bone). I do stop often along the way though to enjoy the beauty of nature. I exclaim again over the tiny leaves, which we called "Polly noses" lying on the ground and remember how we used to open them and put them on our noses as children. I stop to watch the squirrels running quickly away with acorns to hide. I stop to watch a formation of birds flying south or busily gathering good for their nests. Once again, I find I find time to study all on the earth that we often take for granted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-5608761007930675672?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/5608761007930675672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=5608761007930675672' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5608761007930675672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5608761007930675672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/07/walk-in-neighborhood.html' title='A walk in the neighborhood'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-2197161778438338448</id><published>2009-07-25T13:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T14:03:02.153-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Diving in! (a writing prompt)</title><content type='html'>What the heck can I write in five minutes about diving in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the heck can I write in two minutes about diving in?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even come up with a thought for one minute at this time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much to do and so much that needs doing! The movers will be here in three days and I haven't even starting packing. I've gone about this move all wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When John came home and told me we would be moving to another army base (the third one in five years), I thought whoopee, great, I'm excited (not). Where now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I started to think, well now would be a good time to declutter, get rid of all the unnecesary items we all tend to collect, sort through important papers (at least they had seemed important at the time), straighten up our lives in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, guess I got so involved in that and here it is three days and I have not gotten on item packed. Bummer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I do now?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-2197161778438338448?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/2197161778438338448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=2197161778438338448' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/2197161778438338448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/2197161778438338448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/07/diving-in-writing-prompt.html' title='Diving in! (a writing prompt)'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-1053931666296258178</id><published>2009-03-12T17:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T17:35:42.802-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So much more -  a writing prompt</title><content type='html'>Is this all there is? Seems like there should be so much more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought my school's fiftieth reunion would be wonderful. I expected more people, more greetings from former friends etc. I thought I'd be hearing from former classmates by phone, letter or e-mail wanting to know all the details and signing up fast and furious to attend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week went by and then two. Not one phone call, no letters dropping through my mail slot and certainly no deluge of e-mails arriving. What was wrong? Why was no one responding? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never thought to check with my son to be sure he had actually mailed off the invitations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day before the reunion, he came to me with a sheepish grin on his face and told me he had just found the invitations in the trunk of his car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reunion of one should have been so much more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-1053931666296258178?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/1053931666296258178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=1053931666296258178' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/1053931666296258178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/1053931666296258178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-much-more-writing-prompt.html' title='So much more -  a writing prompt'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-7363448192588059357</id><published>2009-03-12T17:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-13T11:50:12.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pessimist or optimist</title><content type='html'>Perhaps at times, my family would say I'm a pessimist but I think of myself as an optimist. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tend to believe that each day will be sunny and pleasant. I expect good things to happen and trust people completly and take them at their word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many times, I have seen that people may say one thing and do another but I can always find a reason to excuse their behavior and expect that the next time,they will be real and true to what they have said or promised.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-7363448192588059357?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/7363448192588059357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=7363448192588059357' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/7363448192588059357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/7363448192588059357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/03/pessimist-or-optimist.html' title='Pessimist or optimist'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-7671278628210872749</id><published>2009-03-12T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-14T12:19:17.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My toes - a writing prompt</title><content type='html'>I have extraordinary, weird toes. My second toe on each foot is longer than my big toe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Growing up, I thought that this was unusual and weird. Later, in life I realized many people have this phenomena. The toes on my right foot turn very much to the right caused by a bunion on the side of my big toe. A friend told me years ago, if I didn't have this operated on, one day the bunion would be as big as a nose. Wouldn't that be horrible and ugly? So far, it hasn't happened although the toes and foot are far from pretty.&lt;br /&gt;My left foot has a toe, I believe the middle one with a slightly blackened nail. I can only guess that I either stubbed it or dropped something on it but I have no recollection of doing so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-7671278628210872749?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/7671278628210872749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=7671278628210872749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/7671278628210872749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/7671278628210872749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-toes-writing-prompt.html' title='My toes - a writing prompt'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-6976655338273851803</id><published>2009-03-12T16:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T17:15:50.159-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two people who pretend to get along, but secretly despise one another</title><content type='html'>Nothing harder to look at then two people who pretend to get along, but secretly despise one another.We see this daily as we go about our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a couple down the street who fight almost nightly. We know, because when the weather is good and our windows are open, we hear the bitterness of their voices as they hurl insults back and forth at each other. Yet, on a Sunday, if we happen to meet them entering or exiting church, we see his arm circled around her waist and smiles on their faces both as they look at one another or other parishioners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How nice it would be if the smiles were real and tenderness of his arm around her was an act of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently we switched doctors, due to conflicts going on with staff. Although, they were pleasant toward us, the patients and properly pleasant toward each other while in our presence, this was not the case when they thought no one was around or within hearing distance. The nurse would snip at the receptionist and vs versus. The implication that each felt as if they were doing more than their share of the workload hung in the air, often unspoken but again at times expressed quite nastily to the other person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time, the doctor was pleasant and professional within our hearing. There were occasions though when she would be short with either the nurse or receptionist.Perhaps in this case, she was feeling overwhelmed and overworked but sometimes, we got the feeling that there was conflict there as well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-6976655338273851803?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/6976655338273851803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=6976655338273851803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/6976655338273851803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/6976655338273851803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-people-who-pretend-to-get-along-but.html' title='Two people who pretend to get along, but secretly despise one another'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-3886266435369350038</id><published>2009-02-20T13:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T14:59:08.275-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Being trapped under a mattress with dead body on top-a prompt to write</title><content type='html'>The day started in the usual fashion. I had my coffee and breakfast while looking out the window of my small motel apartment. When finished, I gathered together my cleaning supplies and started knocking on doors to see which were unoccupied and ready for cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once a week, today being the day, I would not only change the linens but do a through cleaning in three of the rooms. The first two rooms went smoothly, usual garbage to be picked up that people leave behind and the cleaning done. In addition in rooms one and two, I took the time to flip over the mattresses on the beds. When I got to room three, all was going well until I went to flip the mattress on the first bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I flipped it, I was suddenly knocked over by the mattress and trapped under it. Strange, I do this all the time without a problem and wondered why I had lost control of the mattress this time. I've dropped them at times but just had to work at evening up the edges to the box spring in the past. Never had this occurred before where I was knocked over and ended under the mattress. Well, no big deal, I thought, just pull the darn thing off yourself and start again. But wait, I couldn't push it off! Something was weighing it down. Since I had landed on my stomach, it was difficult to get leverage to push but still I've been slinging these things around for years, so it shouldn't be this hard! Well, it wasn't budging and neither was I. My hands crept up and out from the mattress and when I felt around, I could feel something very cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laid there for what seemed like hours until my boss came looking for me, curious as to why I was not finished and back to the office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't until she came in and screamed that I realized it was more than just a mattress gone crazy trapping me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of the mattress was a very dead body!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it would be time for me to really become upset, realizing that I had been laying under a dead body for quite some time and time for the police to figure out how this person got there, who he was and of course, why someone had killed him to begin with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-3886266435369350038?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/3886266435369350038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=3886266435369350038' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3886266435369350038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3886266435369350038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/02/being-trapped-under-mattress-with-dead.html' title='Being trapped under a mattress with dead body on top-a prompt to write'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-1180839814635060709</id><published>2009-02-20T11:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T12:02:20.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>After the rain-a prompt in writing class</title><content type='html'>As we watched the sky before the storm, we felt great apprehension that perhaps the weekend wasn't the best time to be camping. We had pitched our tent near the creek and out from under the trees. We wondered if the wind become worst then it was now, if the tent would remain up. Also, coming to mind, was if it continued to rain for a period of time (once the rain did start), would the firewood be too wet to start a fire? Would we be able to cook the food we had carried in our backpacks and make the coffee to go along with it or would dinner consist of granola bars and bottled water? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knew the creek would quickly spill over it's bank, flooding the tent and sending the firewood moving downstream like toy boats?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did we ever imagine that we would learn to climb a tree, some of us for the very first time as the ground flooded?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-1180839814635060709?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/1180839814635060709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=1180839814635060709' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/1180839814635060709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/1180839814635060709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/02/after-rain-prompt-in-writing-class.html' title='After the rain-a prompt in writing class'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-708504194622715700</id><published>2009-02-08T14:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T14:25:38.028-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A gift that goes very wrong- a writing excise</title><content type='html'>I thought I had picked the perfect gift for my sister's twelfth birthday. Since her birthday was May 13th, I bought her a cute little two piece bathing suit with an adorable skirt cover-up to match.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although we live near the beach, the rule in our household was that we could not go to the beach without&lt;br /&gt;1) permission from a parent&lt;br /&gt;2) having someone with us (sort of a buddy system which was a firmly established system in our household).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually there wasn't a problem getting a buddy since there were 10 of us in our family, four boys and six girls. Mom had given permission for the beach outing with the usual part two- take a buddy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister had asked me and I promised her that I'd be her buddy. Just as we finished putting sunscreen on and gathering up our necessities eg. beach bag with book to read, towel to sit on etc., the phone rang. I grabbed the phone and it was my best friend on the other end with some juicy news. We chattered obviously much longer than I realized and when I got off the phone, I couldn't locate my sister. I ran to the beach and found her towel and beach bag along with her flip-flops near the water's edge. No sight of her in immediate vicinity though. I called her name but got no answer. She was not a strong swimmer and although I alerted family members, we could not find her. We waited all night along with neighbors and friends. The next day her body turned up as we all stood by the shore's edge. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the rest of my life, I would regret taking that phone call but even more, I regretted ever buying her that bathing suit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-708504194622715700?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/708504194622715700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=708504194622715700' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/708504194622715700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/708504194622715700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/02/gift-that-goes-very-wrong-writing.html' title='A gift that goes very wrong- a writing excise'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-6523599319962192097</id><published>2009-01-19T13:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T06:14:05.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The sound of corduroy</title><content type='html'>My brother and I walked to school together everyday. I hated the cold weather and part of it was that my brother wore corduroy knickers(pants that came just below the knee).His socks were knee high and met up with his pant bottom. the corduroy made a very annoying sound as the pants legs met as he walked along. I hated that sound. I would tell him to walk ahead of me or behind me to avoid hearing the noise it made. Since I was the older sister, I was suppose to be holding his hand when we crossed the streets but I would send him ahead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-6523599319962192097?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/6523599319962192097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=6523599319962192097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/6523599319962192097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/6523599319962192097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/01/sound-of-corduroy.html' title='The sound of corduroy'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-1883469660304537128</id><published>2009-01-19T13:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T06:13:37.551-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My first baseball games</title><content type='html'>One of my first memories was of being taken to baseball games by my father. He would go to see the local team in Brooklyn sometimes, in the evening after work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason, he would often take me. I was very young, probably barely two years old since I know we moved from Brooklyn before I was three. I can vaguely remember him putting me up on his shoulder and leaving the game before it ended and walking home. I would always fall asleep during the game. In my later years, I wondered why he took me since I was so young. Perhaps he took me to give my mom a break or maybe because I carried on so when he was leaving. I'll never know but of one thing, I'm sure, it wasn't because I was a big baseball fan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-1883469660304537128?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/1883469660304537128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=1883469660304537128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/1883469660304537128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/1883469660304537128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-first-baseball-games.html' title='My first baseball games'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-3764933062978466850</id><published>2009-01-19T12:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T12:59:52.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My thoughts on snow</title><content type='html'>Standing by the window watching the snowflakes drift slowly down, many thoughts run through my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The scene is beautiful, the trees, shrubs and ground are covered in white and the world looks so clean and pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the practical side of me kicks in. What does the snow mean to others? Children are watching gleefully or perhaps are already outside dancing about, making snowballs and/ or snow angels. A few of the more ambitious ones may be trudging down the street going door to door in the hopes that someone will hire them to clear sidewalks and driveways for them. Business people, who own their own plows are busy scurrying from job to job clearing parking lots. Men employed by their village or county are out working extra hours clearing the roadway for commuters and in the process on occasion plowing driveways back in, not as a deliberate act but unfortunately the way things go. Children and teachers alike are hoping for the snow to continue in the hope that schools will be closed tomorrow. Deliverymen and postal workers are struggling to complete their jobs and get home not too much later than usual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've just gotten done paying someone a handsome sum to clear both my sidewalk and driveway and realize if this snow continues, tomorrow I'll have to hire someone again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In spite of this, I am enjoying the scene through my window and am thankful that for today, I can remain inside and warm myself by the fireplace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-3764933062978466850?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/3764933062978466850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=3764933062978466850' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3764933062978466850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3764933062978466850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-thoughts-on-snow.html' title='My thoughts on snow'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-333466874662201537</id><published>2008-12-13T11:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T11:34:08.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catching up</title><content type='html'>Boy, have I been remiss in writing, both for myself and this blog. Sorry.We've been so busy it seems with doctor appointment's and tests and in between doing some fun things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let talk about the fun things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Saturday we went down to the village of Floral Park for the tree lighting. A friend had invited us and we in turn invited our neighbor to go along.When we got there, we went on a sleigh ride, so okay it was a carriage ride with Santa aboard.Fun! It was just starting to turn dark(early evening) so we saw some nicely decorated houses on the ride. When we got off we were treated to hot chocolate and cookies.Yummy!Shortly after the tree lighting took place which was lovely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, the same friend called and asked us if we wanted to go to Old Westbury Manor to see it decorated for Christmas and also attend a flute concert.This old mansion was magnificant. The workmanship that had been done years ago in decorating the ceilings, walls etc was superb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While there we meet Santa(the real deal). He showed us around and told us stories about his elves that were quite entertaining.He has to be the real deal.He just knew so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we attended the Christmas flute concert downstairs.It was so good and I found it amazing that using only one instrument could create such fine music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week several evenings we have either walked or gone by car to see the homes around here decorated.This is always such fun to do.I'm looking forward to more of the same sort of entertainment between now and Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-333466874662201537?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/333466874662201537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=333466874662201537' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/333466874662201537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/333466874662201537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/12/catching-up.html' title='Catching up'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-2066803554158936051</id><published>2008-12-13T07:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T08:17:51.311-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Superior Scribbler Award</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CoBcaaRVd_I/SUPXzpCx0RI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KGaa9w5g-3E/s1600-h/Scribbler_Blogger_Award.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279300470399160594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 231px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CoBcaaRVd_I/SUPXzpCx0RI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KGaa9w5g-3E/s320/Scribbler_Blogger_Award.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Maureen from Being &lt;a href="http://beingchronicallyillisapill.blogspot.com/"&gt;Chronically Ill Is A Pill &lt;/a&gt;awarded me the Superior Scribbler award. Thanks Maureen. I am to pass it on. Here are the rules for the blog:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;1.  Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;2.  Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author &amp;amp; the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;3.  Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to &lt;a href="http://scholastic-scribe.blogspot.com/2008/10/200-this-blings-for-you.html"&gt;This Post&lt;/a&gt;, which explains The Award.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;4.  Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;5.  Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his or her blog.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I am passing it on ~ but I am also telling those I send it to to refuse the award if they don't have time or energy to keep it going! Just know I was thinking of you and letting you know how much I enjoy your blogs. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jo Ann from &lt;a href="http://bkfaerie.blogspot.com/"&gt;The Book Faerie&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Daisy from &lt;a href="http://daisythecurlycat.blogspot.com/"&gt;Daisy the Curly Cat&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Seth from&lt;a href="http://www.creakyjoints.org/"&gt; Creaky Joints&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Katrina from &lt;a href="http://callapidderdays.com/"&gt;Callapidder Days&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;Connie from &lt;a href="http://conniesview.com/"&gt;Connie's View&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-2066803554158936051?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/2066803554158936051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=2066803554158936051' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/2066803554158936051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/2066803554158936051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/12/superior-scribbler-award.html' title='Superior Scribbler Award'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CoBcaaRVd_I/SUPXzpCx0RI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KGaa9w5g-3E/s72-c/Scribbler_Blogger_Award.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-3384582867251465629</id><published>2008-11-25T16:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T16:42:02.441-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Turkey Day</title><content type='html'>Well, I'll try again. I just wrote a post on thanksgiving and lost it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're having turkey with the help of a caterer which we found today. Our oven is playing tricks on us as far as crazy temperatures and can't be trusted to cook a turkey evenly at this time. repairman due tomorrow but if a part is needed we could have been in trouble. This way, we'll pick up turkey already roasted and just have to make the remainder of the meal. Sounds good to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have so much to be thankful for this year. Our health although not great is better than last year and we have a beautiful, spacious apartment with friendly neighbors surrounding us as well.Could things be better? Sure but I'll settle for okay for the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy your turkey day! We'll all think about dieting after Thanksgiving, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-3384582867251465629?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/3384582867251465629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=3384582867251465629' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3384582867251465629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3384582867251465629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/happy-turkey-day.html' title='Happy Turkey Day'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-527718074156594976</id><published>2008-11-16T13:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T13:36:52.270-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Choice</title><content type='html'>Would I have retired when I did if I knew the economy would become so terrible so swiftly? If I had hung on for another two years until I turned 65, my social security benefits would have been a bit higher and maybe that would have been enough to see me through now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. let's think about this! What did I do in those first two years of retirment that couldn't have waited a little bit longer? One of the things would have been that I would have been at work when my first grandchild was born and not get to spend the first six weeks of my granddaughter's life, helping her mom with household chores so she could concentrate on getting all the little motherly things down pat and coming up with a routine which she could handle when I went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next year, my husband and I rented a RV and traveled cross country visiting family and friends scattered about. We got to take in the wonders of America that we had previously only read about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to have a wonderful, fun filled two years doing things together. Once my husband became ill,that trip would never have happened and those six weeks watching the baby change each day wouldn't have come to pass either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I made a good decision to retire early. What do you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-527718074156594976?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/527718074156594976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=527718074156594976' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/527718074156594976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/527718074156594976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/another-choice.html' title='Another Choice'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-5194598753534887420</id><published>2008-11-13T05:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T05:11:26.553-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma, then and Now</title><content type='html'>Can't take credit for writing this. Just wanted to pass along to all. This was submitted and I assume&lt;?&gt; written by Ralph Ringenberg to Reminisce Magazine.&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandma, then and Now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the dim and distant past,&lt;br /&gt;When life's temp wasn't fast,&lt;br /&gt;Grandma used to rock and knit,&lt;br /&gt;Crochet, tat and baby-sit.&lt;br /&gt;When the kids were "in a jam,"&lt;br /&gt;You could always count on Gram.&lt;br /&gt;In the age of gracious giving,&lt;br /&gt;Grandma was the gal for giving.&lt;br /&gt;Grandma now is at the gym,&lt;br /&gt;Exercising to keep slim.&lt;br /&gt;She's out golfing with the bunch,&lt;br /&gt;Taking clients out to lunch.&lt;br /&gt;Going south for sun and surf,&lt;br /&gt;Seeking more exciting turf.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing seens to stop&lt;br /&gt;or block her,&lt;br /&gt;Now that Grandma's&lt;br /&gt;off her rocker.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-5194598753534887420?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/5194598753534887420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=5194598753534887420' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5194598753534887420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5194598753534887420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/grandma-then-and-now.html' title='Grandma, then and Now'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-2363323768091112716</id><published>2008-11-07T16:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T14:18:01.049-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Moving Experience</title><content type='html'>"Bret, Bret, where are you?" Madison was running through the house screaming her brother's name as if she had lost him forever. "Madison, I'm right here in our room! What's the matter?".Madison was sobbing and just about out of breath from running up the stairs. "Calm down, Madison, take a deep breath and tell me what's wrong?" Bret said to his little sister in his big brother voice which usually seemed to work with her. "Mommy said we are moving to a new house and will each have our own room, I'm glad we share a room. It makes me feel safe" Bret laughed and said "one day soon, you'll be glad you have your own room and I'll be happy that I have mine and can hang up all my baseball posters and stuff".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since Bret was a big second grader already, he looked upon the move as an adventure while Madison at the age of five wanted nothing in her life to change. She wanted to go to the same kindergarten class as she had been; she wanted to continue to have a best friend in school named Tammy and another best friend down the block named Sarah. She didn't want changes in her life, didn't want to start at a new school, be the new kid in the neighborhood and have to search for new best friends. Bret, meanwhile, saw the move as a chance to join a new baseball team in the summer as well as a new soccer team in the fall. He welcomed the chance to meet new friends. He thought it would be nice to have a new teacher especially since Mom had told him that his new teacher was a man. That was so neat! While he liked his teacher fine now, having a man teacher just sounded so right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How different Bret and Madison were from one another. He looked at the world as a place to explore, research and observe. Madison was a scary cat. He didn't know if it was because she was a girl or just because she was only five and had just started school. He realized that having his own room would allow him to decorate it as he wished and not feel the need to hide his best treasures such as baseball cards from his little sister's prying eyes and fingers. She would be happy to have a really girlie room once she got used to the idea of having her own space. Maybe Daddy would put up shelves for both of them. Bret would love to have shelves to put his books on as well as last year's soccer award. Madison could put out all her Dora the Explorer stuff on her shelves and she would like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bret sat down to explain all this to her and to help her realize what fun it would be for this new move.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-2363323768091112716?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/2363323768091112716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=2363323768091112716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/2363323768091112716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/2363323768091112716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/moving-experience.html' title='A Moving Experience'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-9059042652349393909</id><published>2008-11-07T16:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T14:18:01.063-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What happened to Amy on her first day of school</title><content type='html'>Today was the first day of school for Amy. The little four year old had eagerly dresses herself this morning in her best dress. She added small, lace trimmed socks to her feet and then slipped on her shiny new black patent leather shoes that mommy called Mary Jane's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She ran into the breakfast nook of her home and twirled around for her mom and two older brothers to see how pretty she looked.Unfortunately, her seven year old brother was attempting to bring jars of grape jelly and honey to the table with the thought of adding to his toasted English Muffin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy collided with her brother and the jars went flying. She was covered in purple as well as the sweet, sticky honey from her hair down to her shoes.Everyone first reaction was to laugh, Amy looked so funny turned purple.After a minute, her mom collected herself and rushed to Amy saying soothingly, "come Amy, let's get that dress off, get your face washed and get you into something really beautiful to wear to school". Amy wanted no part of this. She was crying and gasping for breath saying "I won't go to school, not today, not ever."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took awhile but mom eventually got her calmed down, into the shower and cleaned up (no easy task with the honey situation.) She chattered brightly at Amy about what would be a good outfit to wear with her sandals now that the shoes had been ruined. Between them, they found a pretty blue skirt to go with a white blouse that was trimmed in blue. Another pair of lace trimmed socks and sandals and Amy was good to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later mom would deal with the mess in the kitchen. Right now, she needed to get everone including Amy out the door, into the car and to school on time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-9059042652349393909?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/9059042652349393909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=9059042652349393909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/9059042652349393909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/9059042652349393909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-happened-to-amy-on-her-first-day.html' title='What happened to Amy on her first day of school'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-5054433951279394989</id><published>2008-11-07T16:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T09:26:00.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A True Teacher</title><content type='html'>My neighbor for whom I babysat as a teenager was a true teacher for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent a lot of time at her house even when I wasn't babysitting and got to watch a young woman in action as wife, mother and neighbor. She had a fun way about her and was raising her children to be happy, fun loving but also responsible citizens of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We connected with a common interest of sewing and spent many hours together cutting out and basting clothes in my case for myself and in hers, clothing for her children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched her prepare delicious meals for her family and frequently got to join in eating with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learned a lot about motherhood from this woman and feel I modeled myself after her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-5054433951279394989?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/5054433951279394989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=5054433951279394989' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5054433951279394989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5054433951279394989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/true-teacher.html' title='A True Teacher'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-8709435012566492731</id><published>2008-11-07T16:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T16:12:50.943-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sand</title><content type='html'>I long to be able to walk again at the beach, feeling the sand drifting in and out of my toes as I move along. I wish I could stand at the ocean front and feel the sensation of the sand shifting beneath my feet as the waves wash ashore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always felt a calmness at being able to walk along the shoreline, bending from time to time and choosing shells to add to my collection.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-8709435012566492731?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/8709435012566492731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=8709435012566492731' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/8709435012566492731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/8709435012566492731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/sand.html' title='Sand'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-8016448301798550833</id><published>2008-11-06T14:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T14:39:39.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Book list</title><content type='html'>I'm listing below some books I'm hoping to read within the next two months.Do any of them sound intersting to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It Only Takes A Minute&lt;br /&gt;8 Sandpiper Way&lt;br /&gt;Last Kiss&lt;br /&gt;Against Medical Advice&lt;br /&gt;Damage Control&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and to get me writing AGAIN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guide to Fiction Writing by Phyllis A. Whitney&lt;br /&gt;Shimmering Images A Handy Little Guide to  Writing Memoir by Lisa Dale Norton&lt;br /&gt;How Not To Write A Novel by Howard Mittelmark &amp; Sandra Newman&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what you're reading these days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-8016448301798550833?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/8016448301798550833/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=8016448301798550833' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/8016448301798550833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/8016448301798550833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/book-list.html' title='Book list'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-2409624676851464892</id><published>2008-11-03T14:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T16:21:58.870-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What every happened to good service?</title><content type='html'>We went out Saturday night for dinner at a little local restaurant that we had "done" breakfast at a few weeks ago.We had found the meal at breakfast excellent, service good and the quaintness of the place charming. Therefore when we had a guest over, we chose to take him there to share what we had found before. What a difference this time! While the place was not crowded, we waited quite awhile for a simple hamburger and french fries. Mine was suppose to be medium rare (charcoal black would be a better description). My daughter's which was ordered as medium was the same but what we found to be particularly disturbing was that we had called ahead to be sure that something could be prepared without garlic (she has a severe allergic reaction to this) and when we asked again on ordering were assured that all food was cooked from scratch and there would be no garlic in it. Just to sure, I ordered mine without so as to not possibly have a mix up. Guess what! Both hamburgers were seasoned with garlic, well overdone and french fries cold(as were the hamburgers).As usual happens, the server came over after a few minutes and asked if everything was alright and when we told her no and complained about the garlic and that my daughter was already feeling the effects from it, she said she hoped we had something with us to contract the effect and moved away from the table. At no time did anyone say they were sorry but I do have to say server did offer to replace meal.&lt;br /&gt;However we did not want to take a chance on something else.While the manager did come over, he also did not apologize although he did send server back to say there would be no bill after telling us that grill doesn't get cleaned between orders and acting as if that shouldn't matter.There was a great deal of indifference toward us and we did not feel that we would be welcomed back in the future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-2409624676851464892?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/2409624676851464892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=2409624676851464892' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/2409624676851464892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/2409624676851464892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-every-happened-to-good-service.html' title='What every happened to good service?'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-3626174806404385925</id><published>2008-10-31T15:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T16:07:17.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts on Halloween</title><content type='html'>What a nice day today was. I went out in the morning to get my hair cut and all the stylists were dressed up for Halloween. My favorite one was Raggedy Ann.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next I went to the bank and there one of the tellers was dressed as a jailbird. Hope he didn't get into my account!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grocery store had several Batmen and my cashier was dressed as a Geisha lady.She was done up perfectly but I fear her white makeup was scaring some of the younger children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally when I arrived home and thought I would take a short nap (ha) the doorbell started ringing and I got to see several ghosts, again Batmen and Robots. Most of the children were so polite, thanking me when they got candy. A few just took the candy and left without saying anything. Oh well, takes all kinds of people to make the world what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening appears to be the daddies, dressed up along with their children coming by to trick or treat. Guess the moms are tired out from trekking around this afternoon or perhaps they had to stay home to do their share answering the doorbell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it's been fun seeing the little ones all dressed in their favorite costumes and I look forward to a repeat next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! Don't eat too much of the kids candy now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-3626174806404385925?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/3626174806404385925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=3626174806404385925' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3626174806404385925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3626174806404385925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/10/thoughts-on-halloween.html' title='Thoughts on Halloween'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-5931222336026229940</id><published>2008-10-30T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T16:23:54.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>I'm so glad tomorrow is Halloween. I look forward to seeing the kiddies come to the door in their hopefully "original" costumes. Last two places I lived we didn't really get many trick or treaters and I miss that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Halloween everyone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-5931222336026229940?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/5931222336026229940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=5931222336026229940' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5931222336026229940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5931222336026229940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-7040598181197336319</id><published>2008-10-24T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-24T13:17:19.127-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Miss Suzy</title><content type='html'>It appears little Miss Suzy has come to visit on our patio. We recently moved into our new home and noticed lots of acorns and of course lots of squirrels around the neighborhood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past few days, we noticed one squirrel who loved to visit and run around the patio. She climbed on the park bench and ran across the top of it. She appeared to notice that we were watching her but seemed unfazed by it and certainly not worried that we would harm her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today she again went through her antics and then stopped in full view of our back door, stood up on her hind legs and placed her front paws together as if begging for food or praying. She was not put off by us approaching her. Evidently, the people who lived here before us had fed her. Watching her a little longer, we saw that she actually had some acorns stored in a flowerpot where nothing was now blooming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The choice appears to be up to us at this point. Should we feed her or just leave the flowerpot in place for her to use a storage of her food?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-7040598181197336319?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/7040598181197336319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=7040598181197336319' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/7040598181197336319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/7040598181197336319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/10/little-miss-suzy.html' title='Little Miss Suzy'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-28017900942686564</id><published>2008-10-22T13:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T13:55:31.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Since we've recently moved, one of my aims for this week was to get to the local Senior Center and see what they had to offer. I was nervous, more than nervous, to the point of stomach sickness wondering how the people would greet an outsider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No need to have worried. I went today and met such nice people, eager to make me feel at home. The ladies that I sat with made conversation easy for me and explained what activities were available there. I sat in a on a hand of "Kings in the Corner" before the morning activity of ceramics started. While most of this time was spend concentrating on painting, there was still comments going around the table so that a person didn't feel alone. After a short time for a snack, we got to play bingo before it was time to go home. I'm looking forward to returning next Monday to see what sort of crafts are available to do as well as visit with these nice people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have realized that people are people and that there was no need to get my self upset.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-28017900942686564?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/28017900942686564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=28017900942686564' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/28017900942686564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/28017900942686564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/10/since-weve-recently-moved-one-of-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-3732252736691789101</id><published>2008-10-18T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T14:08:41.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Song</title><content type='html'>Being a very literal person, when given a writing assignment of My Song in my Creative Writing Class, I thought WOW, I have no song. I wish I did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a small child when I sang, my mother would ask me what I was saying and when I answered I was singing, she would tell me I couldn't sing. She had a good voice and she was probably right that I couldn't carry a tune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In school, we were separated into singers and listeners in music class. I was a listener. Listeners had to sit in the last row in this class and keep quiet while the others sang. This greatly affected my life. I do not sing out loud to this day. I mouth the words in church and when attending a function which turns into a sing-a-long, I just sit there, mouth closed. I never sing out loud at birthday parties, again just mouthing the words. Thankfully, my children never caught on to the fact that I wasn't singing at their parties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However since I realized early on that there is joy in song, I always attempted to encourage my children to sing. Some of them had better voices than others. One of my daughters has a lovely voice while the other one sings as well as her mother. This latter child tried out for and was accepted in glee club in sixth grade. Between songs, she would be smiling constantly up there on stage. I was so happy for her. When her son was born, she would sing to him constantly. When he got old enough to speak, he would say "gain" to her when she finished a song. It was his way of saying again and it was music to my ears. At last I had a song of my own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-3732252736691789101?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/3732252736691789101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=3732252736691789101' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3732252736691789101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/3732252736691789101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-song.html' title='My Song'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-4402780400594095763</id><published>2008-10-17T16:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T13:37:21.810-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coping with and Overcoming Hearing Loss Maybe!</title><content type='html'>In recent years, I have lost a great deal of my hearing capacity. It was a gradually thing that crept in. When I finally realized what was happening, I had my hearing checked and found that I REALLY needed a hearing aide. Actually both ears needed help but finances caused me to only purchase one hearing aide in the beginning. About a year later, I knew it was time to get the second one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coping with hearing loss and getting adjusted to using an aide took sometime. Like many women, I am vain and needing a device stuck in my ear was not a pleasant thought to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember leaving the audiologist office and starting my car. WOW, when those signals get so noisy? It must be hailing out there, that can't possibly be rain as I drove away! Incredible, these were two of the first sensory differences I noticed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pleasant surprises were being able to have a one on one conversation with someone and actually hear the whole conversation and respond correctly to that person and not see that puzzled look on their face as I had before when I did not respond in a reasonable manner to something they had asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One great benefit of using hearing aides is the ability to remove one in a crowded restaurant and still be able to carry on conversation without feeling overwhelmed. The biggest benefit by far comes at night when my extremely loud neighbors above me throw items around. Once I have my hearing aides out, I generally do not hear what goes on. Unfortunately, my daughter who is blessed with great hearing has to resort to ear plugs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-4402780400594095763?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/4402780400594095763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=4402780400594095763' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/4402780400594095763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/4402780400594095763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/10/coping-with-and-overcoming-hearing-loss.html' title='Coping with and Overcoming Hearing Loss Maybe!'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-5006112860848726076</id><published>2008-10-17T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T16:16:06.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I'm About</title><content type='html'>As I said yesterday,I'm going to try to use this site to post memoirs and some just plain fiction that I've written or will write. If you enjoy, good. If not, sorry, guess it's not for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting tomorrow, I'll try to get on and post something I've written before.I'd been attending a creative writing class in my neighborhood but recently moved so I'm trying to write on my own. I will continue to get back from time to time to this class since everyone there was so pleasant and helpful. Meanwhile if anyone has suggestions for topics, please post and I'll consider.Thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presently my daughter and I are attending a creative writing workshop that is held once a month in the evening at a local library. The teacher is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;excellent&lt;/span&gt; and has good speakers often as part of her class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-5006112860848726076?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/5006112860848726076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=5006112860848726076' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5006112860848726076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/5006112860848726076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-im-about.html' title='What I&apos;m About'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7932349425674956331.post-1335361173755857603</id><published>2008-10-16T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T18:32:05.934-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm New Here</title><content type='html'>My daughter just helped me set up my first blog so I can save and share all my writings. I hope you will enjoy coming to see what I have to say.  I plan on posting my writings (sort of like a memoirs situation) and other fiction writing as the mood strikes me. Hope you'll check my blog out from time to time and enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7932349425674956331-1335361173755857603?l=dottie0617.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/feeds/1335361173755857603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7932349425674956331&amp;postID=1335361173755857603' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/1335361173755857603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7932349425674956331/posts/default/1335361173755857603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dottie0617.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-new-here.html' title='I&apos;m New Here'/><author><name>Dottie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04622366175306431627</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
