<?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-1584454644982703193</id><updated>2012-02-16T00:00:53.719-08:00</updated><category term='Nature'/><category term='Florida Life'/><category term='Crafts'/><category term='dogs'/><category term='family'/><category term='Birds'/><category term='Contests'/><category term='Memories'/><category term='Smokey'/><category term='d'/><category term='health'/><category term='Mojo'/><category term='hospital'/><title type='text'>susan's satorical stories</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-5248947601357308847</id><published>2011-02-22T15:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T15:52:28.473-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mojo'/><title type='text'>More mojo</title><content type='html'>I also used to buy yarn or crafting supplies because I liked them and then would later figure out what to do with them.  Big mistake now I have stashes of monumental proportions and they almost scare me.  I've slowly been trying to destash. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've finally admitted to myself that since I've started using "luxury" yarns the old cheap acrylics that I grew up with just will NOT do.  Who knew that wool could be so soft, I always thought that wool was scratchy, and yes some of it is but then some of it...Oh so soft.  The difference between quality and cheap.  Also what I always thought of as nice cotton.  Not so nice.  I've found some that has been cleaned out better and there are no little pieces of the plant to snag and stick.  Again the difference between quality and cheap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put all the stuff I didn't know what I wanted to do with in a bag and took it to my LYS where it was donated to a local church group who were making shawls.  I don't think they realized just how much I was talking about when I said I'd bring them some.  Now I just have to teach my husband that just because I like it, does not mean that I need to buy it now.  Sometimes I'll decide that I just have no real use for something even if it is the most beautiful or softest yarn I've ever felt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found the same thing with my paper crafts.  I have Boxes and boxes of paper, ribbons, and assorted treasures all to be added to projects with no clear project in mind.  Just stuff I had to have.  Well I'm going to clean that out too.  Just have to decide who would like snow themed papers, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then hubby started getting me cigar boxes.  I have about half a dozen and don't know what to do with them.  I'll have to figure something out cause I really like them.  I've seen purses and stuff made out of them but usually the beautiful finish on the box itself is messed up.  Hate for that to happen.  Maybe I'll just have to make them into trinket boxes for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-5248947601357308847?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5248947601357308847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2011/02/more-mojo.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/5248947601357308847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/5248947601357308847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2011/02/more-mojo.html' title='More mojo'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-5974291858391616137</id><published>2011-02-21T17:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-22T15:52:58.598-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mojo'/><title type='text'>What is this thing anyway?</title><content type='html'>I think I've decided to use this more like a journal. Discuss the projects I have going and just put my thoughts down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking about my creative mojo lately. Wondering where it came from. I never used to create like this, I used to search through patterns until I found one I liked then make it. Wow! what a change. Now I think about what I want and find something similar (just so I don't have to reinvent the wheel) and I change it until it is what I want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I can pin point the beginning of the change. I was given a cookbook for Christmas one year by my BFF. It was actually two books in one and I can't remember what the first part of the book is but the second half (I should say section since it don't think it is half) is called the Baker's Bible. It changed my baking. It gave me permission to change the spices, change the amount of sugar, flour, kind of fat. The entire section goes through and the author breaks down different baked goods, comparing and contrasting different changes. Things like 3 eggs will make a richer cake, using cornstarch instead of flour for thickening doesn't take as much cooking. Then they give a basic recipe and make suggestions to make it your own. Add Amaretto to your whipped cream to give it a richer flavor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I embraced that book, I have looked at recipes and patterns in a new way. I'm more willing to make changes, I'm less afraid of failure and in the process I enjoy my creations a lot more. If it is something I've never tried before I'll follow the recipe or pattern the first time. Then I change it and make it my own. For Christmas I found a scarf pattern that I loved. So I made a hat with the same stitch and mittens too. LOVE the results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm working on a hooded baby towel, I found a pattern but I don't like the stitch they use, simple, I just use one I like. Kept the pattern because it uses a bind off that I've never tried, and I like the construction that they used. So I'll use their basic instructions (making it bigger cause 20" from point to point is just too small), my stitch and their bind off. I bought a book (e-book actually) of wash cloth patterns, since I don't want to reinvent the wheel and they were exactly what I was wanting to make. Now I'll just make them into burp cloths too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-5974291858391616137?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5974291858391616137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-is-this-thing-anyway.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/5974291858391616137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/5974291858391616137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2011/02/what-is-this-thing-anyway.html' title='What is this thing anyway?'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-8178072976727679367</id><published>2010-01-10T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T11:38:35.267-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><title type='text'>SNOW?</title><content type='html'>I moved to Florida in 1988.  For Christmas of 1989 temperatures got down to almost 0.  I told my sister that day that if it snows I'd go back to Wisconsin so at least when I froze to death, I'd be with family.  It didn't snow that time and has not threatened to snow in central Florida since, until yesterday.  I understand that Winter Haven had "small hail" that some thought might have been snow but from the description, I'd say it was actually sleet.  Glad I did not see it cause I might have had to move back up north.  At least we have sun today. Temp has warmed up to 41 by 2:00. But this morning when I got up this is what my frog pond looked like, didn't find my thermometer until it was above freezing, so I don't know how cold it did get last night, but it was still 37 at noon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/S0om7ZIAkSI/AAAAAAAAAGU/pUErP2l79ro/s1600-h/DSCF0035.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/S0om7ZIAkSI/AAAAAAAAAGU/pUErP2l79ro/s320/DSCF0035.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425191502919799074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/S0om7HZqsPI/AAAAAAAAAGM/VQnAUvGt-Sc/s1600-h/DSCF0036.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/S0om7HZqsPI/AAAAAAAAAGM/VQnAUvGt-Sc/s320/DSCF0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425191498162024690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Florida frogs are not smart enough to bury themselves to hibernate.  I've found at least 5 frozen frogs and I don't think they'll be able to thaw out for a while.  Some of them were found by predators.  Who ever found them just took their heads and didn't bother with the rest of the body.  I won't take pics of those because I think they are gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This could possibly be the culprit but he was fishing in the pond that was too big to freeze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/S0oslrinVwI/AAAAAAAAAGk/TrLP8A7EAvs/s1600-h/DSCF0039.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/S0oslrinVwI/AAAAAAAAAGk/TrLP8A7EAvs/s320/DSCF0039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425197726975874818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/S0om7RpVLZI/AAAAAAAAAGc/qFtJgRkSiAY/s1600-h/DSCF0039.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/1584454644982703193-8178072976727679367?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8178072976727679367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-moved-to-florida-in-1988.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/8178072976727679367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/8178072976727679367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-moved-to-florida-in-1988.html' title='SNOW?'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/S0om7ZIAkSI/AAAAAAAAAGU/pUErP2l79ro/s72-c/DSCF0035.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-2037708826936601922</id><published>2009-12-08T19:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T20:16:02.217-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><title type='text'>Winter Blahs</title><content type='html'>Well fall is really and truely here. We haven't had the A/C on for a full week (ok maybe more), but the gloomy weather is starting to get to me. I miss the sun. We've had rain off and on for about a week. Usually when fall/winter comes it rains one day and gets cold (below 60 at night) the next, maybe the cold will last for a couple days but the sun usually comes back out. Nope not this year. clouds, clouds and more clouds. But every time I feel like this I check out the weather in WI. Guess what, they are in the middle of a blizzard, the temp yesterday was 79 here, so shut up Sue and be happy. You aren't trying to drive in that crap, and you don't have to shovel it, and your heavy winter coat is sitting in the closet just taking up space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to those of you up there in it. I'm so sorry for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you want to see what I'm missing click &lt;a href="http://www.stevenspointjournal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/gallery?Avis=U0&amp;amp;Dato=20091208&amp;amp;Kategori=SPJ01&amp;amp;Lopenr=912080818&amp;amp;Ref=PH"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-2037708826936601922?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2037708826936601922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/12/winter-blahs.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2037708826936601922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2037708826936601922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/12/winter-blahs.html' title='Winter Blahs'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-1182440724865467025</id><published>2009-11-06T07:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T07:49:56.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Becca's Scrapbook</title><content type='html'>Wow where did October go?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promised some people that I'd post pictures of the scrap book I sent my cousin for her wedding. Hope this is ok with you Becca. It was a very easy project using Stampin' Up! supplies. so here are the pics. I sent her lots of embellishments because they were part of the kits that I bought but I wasn't sure what pictures she would use and if she'd prefer that it was busy or simple. I went with simple cause it is easy to add, but hard to remove. Well here are some of the pics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401017265114586546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREljjoHbI/AAAAAAAAAFk/1teK4Zdgtik/s320/September+5+026.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREmlrS2yI/AAAAAAAAAGE/JQ0xtVxKz-U/s1600-h/Page+11.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401017282863487778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREmlrS2yI/AAAAAAAAAGE/JQ0xtVxKz-U/s320/Page+11.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREmZ5bcTI/AAAAAAAAAF8/XOQyEk8qTso/s1600-h/Page+9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401017279701545266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREmZ5bcTI/AAAAAAAAAF8/XOQyEk8qTso/s320/Page+9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREmCz0Y_I/AAAAAAAAAF0/ZR9XsJXKLSw/s1600-h/Page+6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401017273503998962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREmCz0Y_I/AAAAAAAAAF0/ZR9XsJXKLSw/s320/Page+6.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREl8Si2XI/AAAAAAAAAFs/c4R5ZnrHMUo/s1600-h/Page+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401017271753824626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREl8Si2XI/AAAAAAAAAFs/c4R5ZnrHMUo/s320/Page+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&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/1584454644982703193-1182440724865467025?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1182440724865467025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/11/beccas-scrapbook.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/1182440724865467025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/1182440724865467025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/11/beccas-scrapbook.html' title='Becca&apos;s Scrapbook'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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/_1uAr20jQqHY/SvREljjoHbI/AAAAAAAAAFk/1teK4Zdgtik/s72-c/September+5+026.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-2972632959028334642</id><published>2009-09-25T13:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T14:00:22.472-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>Cheese Heads in the surf!</title><content type='html'>My Brother and his family came to visit from Wisconsin, this week. They spent the week at Disney World but Wednesday, we went to Vero Beach. Two weeks ago Hurricane Fred was spinning out in the Atlantic. One week ago Fred was downgraded to a tropical depression. This week he wasn’t a tropical system of any sort but the remnants of him were churning off the East coast of Florida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385510694637439234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Sr0tcW_uiQI/AAAAAAAAAE8/PQ4cn3FRlbA/s320/Bill+and+Family+022.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can see the size of the waves behind L (Blue suit).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385510700828827858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Sr0tcuD3oNI/AAAAAAAAAFE/EwjB75iathc/s320/Elizabeth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;This is E’s happy face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385510709936384258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Sr0tdP_R6QI/AAAAAAAAAFM/9RuhoBvrdys/s320/Nicholas.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N was having a good time too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385510712220083570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Sr0tdYfwZXI/AAAAAAAAAFU/DQ_D6CtF_fY/s320/Elizabeth+in+the+waves.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The spray off to the left was from N.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385510720746073586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 192px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Sr0td4QgrfI/AAAAAAAAAFc/F4Yzy9JANa8/s320/Beth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Here is a close up of E.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were all a little pink by the end of the day but oh so happy. I’m so glad we were able to get together for our day at the beach. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-2972632959028334642?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2972632959028334642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/09/cheese-heads-in-surf.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2972632959028334642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2972632959028334642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/09/cheese-heads-in-surf.html' title='Cheese Heads in the surf!'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Sr0tcW_uiQI/AAAAAAAAAE8/PQ4cn3FRlbA/s72-c/Bill+and+Family+022.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-4051439788003857361</id><published>2009-09-03T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T09:30:33.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Lost</title><content type='html'>Have you ever had an adventure in your life that you really did not think was so great? You were sure that everyone there had just as bad a time as you did. Then many years later you talk to some of the people who were with you and you see a VERY different account of the event although you still recognize it as the one you lived through.&lt;br /&gt;One day my cousins and I were playing in the woods. My parents lived on the back side of a game preserve so we treated the preserve like our own back yard. Well we’d gone a bit further than usual and on a new trail. Now when I say trail I mean more like a deer trail than an actual path that someone has carved out of the landscape. There were several of both in these woods. But we had gone farther and not paid much attention to where we were going as we were picking flowers or gathering berries or pinecones or some such thing. We had been walking for quite some time, when we decided that we were hungry so maybe we should go home. Which way is home? We kept walking until we found a fence. Someone I think it was DB said that if you follow a fence you will always wind up at a house or barn. So that sounded like good advice. Then the fence went through a swamp, now how do you follow a fence through a swamp? So we left the fence. We walked for hours finally we got to the old railroad bed. Oh great, this goes into town. We’ll just follow it until we get there and then call Mom and tell her where we are. (To this day I don't know where in town the railroad bed comes out but we were always told it came out in town.  The railroad bed probably goes to the fair grounds since everything else goes there but I'm not sure.)&lt;br /&gt;We followed that for about 20 minutes when the caretaker of the game preserve found us. He was out working in the woods so he took us home.&lt;br /&gt;Now my memory of that day is cloudy and dark as though there is a storm coming, I remember being scared and hungry we finally got home around 2 in the afternoon we’d left probably around 10.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t remember Mom being particularly worried about us. When I spoke to one of the other kids that were there they don’t remember that we were lost. And the caretaker finding us was just a good excuse to have a ride on the wagon. We had found the spring where they had a cup to drink from so we weren’t particularly thirsty and berries to eat so we weren’t too hungry either. My main memory of that day is that I was scared. I was afraid that we were lost and would never get home. I know I was not the oldest one there but I was probably between 8 and 10 so the oldest one who might have been there would have been no older than 12. We’d been gone for 4 hours and Mom just said that we should have stayed close enough so that we could have heard the horn when she honked it. We missed lunch so, oh well, we could wait for supper since we didn’t stay close enough, and that would teach us to not go so far.&lt;br /&gt;I think about that now and how if my niece and nephew who live there now were gone for four hours that the police probably would be called. And a search conducted. Sex offenders in the area would be chased down and the pond would be searched. Just cause some kids got turned around in the woods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it truly amazes me that to this day; I am the only one that remembers that we were lost. No one remembers the idea to follow the fence because it would take us to a home; no one remembers the plan to follow the railroad tracks to town, or even trying to remember which side of the tree the moss grows on. My memory was that we were just guessing which way to follow the railroad bed but who knew where else it might go if town was behind us. Now I know that as long as we walked in a straight line we would have had to walk no more than a mile or two in any one direction before we would have come to a road. The road would have led to a house and we would have been “saved.”  But at the time I didn’t understand that, I was scared.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-4051439788003857361?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4051439788003857361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/09/getting-lost.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/4051439788003857361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/4051439788003857361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/09/getting-lost.html' title='Getting Lost'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-5353207122027661926</id><published>2009-08-24T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T16:22:41.096-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><title type='text'>That V-zon company</title><content type='html'>I have had several issues with the phone companies.  I will not use AT&amp;amp;T because of problems I've had with them in the past.  I would prefer to not use Verizon because of the issues I've had with them as well.  Unfortunatly I did not get a choice.  I was very happy with AllTel for my wireless phone and internet provider.  Then Verizon bought them and I've been upset ever since.  While Alltel was my wireless internet provider I never had problems accessing the internet, I never got booted off or anything.  I should clarify that I did have trouble when I first signed up but once we got the hardware straight I've been very happy with them.  Now that V company is my provider and suddenly I can't stay connected and sometimes I can't even connect.  One week I'd been unable to connect for 3 days before I called because I just didn't have time to wait on the phone.  Then when I did connect the guy who spoke to me said that they were having Nation Wide problems and I would not be charged for the days I could not connect.  OK, I can deal with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So about 2 weeks later I receive my bill and no credits, no difference and I can't connect again.  I call them up and tell them what I was told.  The answer was "I have no record that anyone talked to you so we will NOT be honoring that."  WTH!!  "Well I can't connect today either."  "Oh, we are having Nation Wide issues today and you probably won't be able to for a while."  "How long?"  "I have no idea."  "Are we talking hours or days?"  "I have no idea."  " I would like to speak to a supervisor, now."  "None are available right now, can one call you back in about an hour?"  "Sure."  "What should I say this is about? the nation wide problem?"  "No, I want to talk to them about customer service."  I'm still waiting for the call back.  I'll call them again when I think I can talk to them without blowing my cool.  But in the mean time I'll get my thrills other ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight as I headed to work, I saw a Verizon truck pull out behind me.  Now I was going about 10 mph over the speed limit when the truck zoomed past me.  So I very calmly took my foot off the gas and slowed down to the speed limit.  As I got to town I saw a cop make a u-turn with lights on.  My thoughts were that I was probably going to come up on an accident.  Imagine my surprise and glee when I saw that Verizon truck pulled over with the cop behind him.  Love it when things turn out.  LOL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if the cop was having trouble with his phone too?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-5353207122027661926?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5353207122027661926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/08/that-v-zon-company.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/5353207122027661926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/5353207122027661926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/08/that-v-zon-company.html' title='That V-zon company'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-4982878441232327679</id><published>2009-08-03T15:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T15:08:49.952-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><title type='text'>My Big Man</title><content type='html'>Recently my new man has been having issues with me. Seems that when I've wanted him to pay attention in the past I might have poked him with my toe. Just a little nudge. Suddenly Cujo has come to visit. Couldn't figure out why all of a sudden he was acting up. Then I noticed that he is limping. Of course it is the same side he has presented to me when I've nudged him. Never noticed it before but then it is rather subtle. Apparently I've been hurting him and he isn't real forgiving. So we've been having some talks and things are getting better now. Doesn't hurt that I took him to the vet and they gave him some good drugs too. Have to keep him quiet and no running, for at least three weeks. Then we'll talk to the vet again and decide if he needs to have surgery. Let's all say a prayer that he does not need surgery, hate to have to do that to him. Vet thinks that he probably jumped too hard or ran into a hole when he and Ruf were out havin fun. He may have even been limping before he moved in since with his short legs you can't really tell, unless you are looking for it. He puts his foot down but when you go back and check his tracks in the sand, one paw-print isn't as clear as the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little update on my buddy.  Since he's been given the pain pills he is much friendlier and he doesn't limp much at all.  Hard to even tell there is something wrong with his leg.  I'm so glad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-4982878441232327679?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4982878441232327679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-big-man.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/4982878441232327679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/4982878441232327679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-big-man.html' title='My Big Man'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-467739797861839455</id><published>2009-07-25T12:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-25T12:53:23.585-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I read a post at &lt;a href="http://israywrong.blogspot.com/"&gt;Is Ray Wrong &lt;/a&gt;  Ray asked what your mailbox says about you.  I said that mine says I'm sick and tired of the punks messing with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last winter our mailbox needed replacement 3 times. The neighbors had to replace theirs 5. Plastic ones hold up better. So my husband and the neighbor decided to create a holder for our boxes. Here they are working on it. If you look closely you will see that the white metal one has been shot. Luckily mine was furthest from the shooter so I only had one pellet go through mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362487270115650082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Smthwq_MKiI/AAAAAAAAAEs/pRVrO5S_CZY/s320/Mail+box+repair.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the finished product. Put up in January. Neither of us has had to replace our box since. Although the game of hit the mailbox with a baseball bat still goes on.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362487272122180594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SmthwydlY_I/AAAAAAAAAE0/ucJNs83tq5M/s320/Mail+boxes.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-467739797861839455?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/467739797861839455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-read-post-at-is-ray-wrong-ray-asked.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/467739797861839455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/467739797861839455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-read-post-at-is-ray-wrong-ray-asked.html' title=''/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Smthwq_MKiI/AAAAAAAAAEs/pRVrO5S_CZY/s72-c/Mail+box+repair.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-2485892318622467537</id><published>2009-07-16T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T18:37:19.369-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><title type='text'>Sounds of Spring</title><content type='html'>Frog choruses remind me of my childhood. &lt;br /&gt;My grandparents moved from WI to AR in the mid 60’s after raising their family and welcoming many grandchildren to the world. &lt;br /&gt;One spring Grandma said she missed the sounds of spring, the frogs waking up and singing in the swamp outside my mother’s front door, and the robins coming to wake us up in the morning.  So I decided to go and make a recording of the frogs for her.  We were trading tapes as letters around that time anyway.  So I took my cassette recorder out to the swamp and recorded my letter to Grandma.  Talking to her over the sounds of spring.  I wanted to be sure it was getting everything so I played it back.  I could hear nothing more than my voice talking.  I was so disappointed that my grand idea had failed that I took the tape back into the house and finished the letter in there.  I mailed it off. &lt;br /&gt;When Grandma got the tape she called to ask me why I had stopped recording outside as it was the best tape she’d had in quite some time.  I said that she couldn’t hear the frogs anyway so why bother, plus if I took it in the house I wouldn’t have to worry about if the batteries were dying. She assured me that yes she could hear the frogs and proceeded to play it for me over the phone.  It was then that I realized I just couldn’t tell the taped frogs from the real ones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-2485892318622467537?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2485892318622467537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/sounds-of-spring.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2485892318622467537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2485892318622467537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/sounds-of-spring.html' title='Sounds of Spring'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-7532509117344843805</id><published>2009-07-07T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T17:42:19.638-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birds'/><title type='text'>Country life</title><content type='html'>I love living the in “boondocks.” I see things like the Eagles that I’ve shared here. One night when I came home from work there was a Bobcat standing on the hill. It ran when I drove in. But I did get to see him. I saw a barred owl another night when I drove in at dusk. It was sitting on the perimeter fence. I drove past it and it never moved. It only flew off after I had gone into the house to get my camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One evening when D and I were first working on the property we had set up a boom box while we were cleaning up around the pond. I believe we were still picking up irrigation hose from the grove at the time. We stopped to take a break and listen to the wildlife. We were talking about all the frogs and critters that were singing so nicely and that we really didn’t need the boom box. When we shut it off…everything went silent. Apparently the frogs and critters were just singing along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another time I had been working later than usual so I came in around 2 or 3 am. When I got out of the car I stopped to take the time to listen to the night. First the turtles would sound off. Their deep bass a rhythm for the melody. Then the bull frogs would sing the Tenor chorus. Next the Frog choir would sound in, singing the melody so sweetly and finally the peepers would sing the aria. Next they would all play their parts together until one or the other would make a mistake and practice would start all over again. I stood outside that night for almost an hour listening to the choir practice. I felt as though I were listening to their rehearsal for the big concert coming up. It took me back to the days that I was in the band. First the Tubas and the drums play the rhythm to get the beat. Next the Brass play the melody and finally the woodwinds fill in the sound. Each practicing their own part separately then all together as a group. Wonderful memories all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-7532509117344843805?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7532509117344843805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/country-life.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/7532509117344843805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/7532509117344843805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/07/country-life.html' title='Country life'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-3739964057133014154</id><published>2009-06-28T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T15:08:00.537-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><title type='text'>Is it live or is it Memorex</title><content type='html'>All of our dogs are rescues, except for Ruf who came home with us because the police officer thought we needed a guard dog and she had a litter that she needed to find homes for.  So they all have little quirks that came from their old homes (or we assume that is where they came from).  For instance Cocoa, Ralph and Katie react to door bells.  We have never had a door bell so if we are watching a movie and a door bell rings they head to the front door and start barking.  Haven't tested Kirby on this one yet.  But today D put in the movie "Three Men and a Baby."  Remember in the beginning when the baby shows up and they try everything to keep the baby quiet?  Well as that was playing out Kirby started getting upset.  The more the baby cried the more he was agitated.  Finally he started jumping up on the TV to find out where the baby was.  At this point D decided it was best not to upset him any further, so we may not be able to watch that movie again unless we mute the baby crying.  Even when I ejected the tape 30 minutes later Kirby was still looking for the baby.  I thought for a second that he was going to take the tape and run with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-3739964057133014154?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3739964057133014154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/06/is-it-live-or-is-it-memorex.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/3739964057133014154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/3739964057133014154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/06/is-it-live-or-is-it-memorex.html' title='Is it live or is it Memorex'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-4843650551460992172</id><published>2009-06-10T12:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T06:34:08.784-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='d'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SjAGOIngCaI/AAAAAAAAAEE/nFyPGPkybRk/s1600-h/Kirby.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A new man decided to live with us this week. D has had Basset Hounds all his life, they are his favorite dog. He kept telling me he wanted one but of the dogs that needed homes none were Bassets. Then one day we went to the feed store to get Smokey some food so he doesn't have to eat the bird seed and we saw a sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SjAGNyotKhI/AAAAAAAAAD8/uzZJFqIGZEI/s1600-h/Kirby+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345779591689349650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SjAGNyotKhI/AAAAAAAAAD8/uzZJFqIGZEI/s320/Kirby+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Basset to a good home. I tried to cover the sign because we had just decided not to increase our family again. But...Kirby came home with us anyway. Isn't he beautiful!!! And just as sweet as can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SjAGNhWTg8I/AAAAAAAAAD0/Q46m4grRrU4/s1600-h/Kirby+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345779587048768450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SjAGNhWTg8I/AAAAAAAAAD0/Q46m4grRrU4/s320/Kirby+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-4843650551460992172?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/4843650551460992172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/06/new-man-decided-to-live-with-us-this.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/4843650551460992172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/4843650551460992172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/06/new-man-decided-to-live-with-us-this.html' title=''/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SjAGNyotKhI/AAAAAAAAAD8/uzZJFqIGZEI/s72-c/Kirby+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-61453479382320172</id><published>2009-05-23T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T12:13:16.778-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Contests'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Since it is such a dreary day here in Central Florida I thought I'd play with CDW and join her Goofy Gaggle of Geese contest.  Check it out at &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;MSFH&lt;/span&gt;.  Here you can see a Yoke of Yarn that I think is going to strangle me.  Especially since it isn't my only one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://mysistersfarmhouse.com/?p=1586#comments"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339098259405138306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/ShhJlES_6YI/AAAAAAAAADs/ADO71KzLF6A/s320/Yoke+of+Yarn+014.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;And here we see a scramble of scraps.  I think I need to make some card candy or work on my scrapbooks for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/ShhJk6EWCVI/AAAAAAAAADk/Nw_VpBGb19c/s1600-h/Scramble+of+Scraps.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339098256659319122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/ShhJk6EWCVI/AAAAAAAAADk/Nw_VpBGb19c/s320/Scramble+of+Scraps.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-61453479382320172?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/61453479382320172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/since-it-is-such-dreary-day-here-in.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/61453479382320172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/61453479382320172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/since-it-is-such-dreary-day-here-in.html' title=''/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/ShhJlES_6YI/AAAAAAAAADs/ADO71KzLF6A/s72-c/Yoke+of+Yarn+014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-3034465579534850636</id><published>2009-05-08T09:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T09:10:13.944-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birds'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><title type='text'>Show Time</title><content type='html'>As I look at the picture of the Sand Hill Crane I am reminded of last spring.  I was working in my craft room, long before I had any feeders out there; when I heard the cranes making a racket quite nearby.  I looked out the window and there they were just beyond the pile of dirt.  I know it was spring time because he was showing off and looking for love.  While I was watching them I realized I wasn’t alone in enjoying the show.  All four of my dogs (this was before Katie came to live with us) were lying on the pile of dirt not 20 feet from the cranes.  Now Sam and Ruff absolutely love to make any bird they see fly.  But they were all laying on the hill watching.  When the Cranes had decided they were done they just calmly walked away.  All four dogs laid their heads down and went to sleep.  It was almost like they said, “Ok, shows over, nap time.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-3034465579534850636?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3034465579534850636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/show-time.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/3034465579534850636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/3034465579534850636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/show-time.html' title='Show Time'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-1116129227447063805</id><published>2009-05-02T17:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T18:07:22.309-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birds'/><title type='text'>New visitor</title><content type='html'>Can't believe it has been over a month since I updated this. I'll have to get better. Last Wednesday (April 29) I had a new visitor. D called me and told me to look out my window. Right there not 15 feet from the window was this guy.  The sand hill crane is about 3 and a half feet tall  or better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SfzsHws7-bI/AAAAAAAAADc/eMd6Bm7kLV0/s1600-h/New+visitor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331395676976445874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SfzsHws7-bI/AAAAAAAAADc/eMd6Bm7kLV0/s320/New+visitor.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;He stayed around for quite a while. I got these pictures then we ate lunch. My batteries for my camera went dead about that time. I'll have to go to the store and get more. Anyway after lunch I was clearing the table and looked at the kitchen door and he was looking in the window. We decided about that time to share some of our corn bread with him. So I set it on the blocks behind him but as I walked out the door he decided he'd had enough and walked away. I haven't seen him back yet but I have faith that he'll come back.&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/1584454644982703193-1116129227447063805?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/1116129227447063805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-visitor.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/1116129227447063805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/1116129227447063805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/05/new-visitor.html' title='New visitor'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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/_1uAr20jQqHY/SfzsHws7-bI/AAAAAAAAADc/eMd6Bm7kLV0/s72-c/New+visitor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-8862038103923947072</id><published>2009-03-28T17:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T17:22:31.298-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida Life'/><title type='text'>Sonic Boom</title><content type='html'>The shuttle landed today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What that means to me is that around 3:30 it sounded like a bomb went off or maybe thunder.  Needless to say it upset my babies something fierce.  Usually there is one or maybe two booms as it goes over.  Enough to wake the dogs up and get them all barking.  Well today I'm not sure why but, there were the two usual booms and it sounded like rolling thunder after that, the windows were rattling, the door shook, etc.  Took me a few seconds to realize it was the shuttle and then it took several minutes to convince the dogs that there was no one they needed to kill.  All four were on high alert.  Even D was headed for the door.  I'm so glad I learned to pay attention to those kind of things.  One morning the shuttle landed quite early around 7 AM.  I was sleeping and heard the boom.  I bolted out of bed and went looking for the smoke from the bomb I was positive I'd heard.  Maybe it was an accident right in front of the house.  That time it took me most of the day to figure out what had happened.  After that I pay attention to NASA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-8862038103923947072?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8862038103923947072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/03/sonic-boom.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/8862038103923947072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/8862038103923947072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/03/sonic-boom.html' title='Sonic Boom'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-9045419641409935990</id><published>2009-03-24T08:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T08:29:20.381-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeders</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Well since that post I've had to put up a second feeder. I was filling the one up twice a day. The second one only holds sunflower seeds. I thought it would go faster, as they all seem to dig for the sunflower seeds. But I was wrong.  So now I fill my regular feeder at least every other day and the sunflower feeder once a week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316775246055851714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Scj66rO_xsI/AAAAAAAAADU/grh7htQAmOM/s320/New+feeder+014.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;As you can clearly see they are both quite popular.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;That being said, I joined the Fiber Guild last Saturday. This was the second meeting I went to. The first they were teaching crochet. I'll have to take pics of a few of the projects I've finished. Needless to say I already know how to crochet so at that one I didn't learn much. Although I did learn how to roll a ball of yarn so that the yarn is pulled from the inside out. That way the ball isn't rolling all over the place. But if you use a yarn caddy it isn't a problem anyway. This month we made cloak pins. Which was fun. Here is my finished product. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316775237357134130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Scj66K1D4TI/AAAAAAAAADM/94iDlQfrZaM/s320/New+feeder+016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I suppose I could have sanded a bit longer and made the circle very smooth, but I wanted to use it in my hair and a smooth one with that large a hole would soon be lost. I like the rustic look anyway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-9045419641409935990?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/9045419641409935990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/03/feeders.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/9045419641409935990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/9045419641409935990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/03/feeders.html' title='Feeders'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/Scj66rO_xsI/AAAAAAAAADU/grh7htQAmOM/s72-c/New+feeder+014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-2834484791669755357</id><published>2009-02-19T07:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-05T15:43:24.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>This time I'm sure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I'm finally seeing birds regularly. There is at least a pair of these silly Blue Jays.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;They like the sunflower seeds and throw anything else on the ground. Messy birds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SZ1-RXZJQlI/AAAAAAAAADE/hO9ejipYr7w/s1600-h/Birds+025.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304534772914668114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SZ1-RXZJQlI/AAAAAAAAADE/hO9ejipYr7w/s320/Birds+025.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Then there is this pair. They are so beautiful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SZ1-RZN069I/AAAAAAAAAC8/y6908pJPfRM/s1600-h/Birds+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304534773404068818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SZ1-RZN069I/AAAAAAAAAC8/y6908pJPfRM/s320/Birds+018.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SZ1-RER_OXI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Ma-5Lm-coXM/s1600-h/Birds+015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304534767784376690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SZ1-RER_OXI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Ma-5Lm-coXM/s320/Birds+015.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The male has the most beautiful song. Grandma always described it as "pretty bird" but it seems more like a song to me. He also stands out in the bushes. He's such a show off. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I've seen as many as 6 starlings around the feeder also but can't seem to get a good picture of them. They move too fast. I'm filling this thing every two days now and Smokey is not getting much if any of it. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-2834484791669755357?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2834484791669755357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-time-im-sure.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2834484791669755357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2834484791669755357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-time-im-sure.html' title='This time I&apos;m sure'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SZ1-RXZJQlI/AAAAAAAAADE/hO9ejipYr7w/s72-c/Birds+025.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-3101015535150875071</id><published>2009-01-14T07:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T08:08:13.688-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='d'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Smokey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Birds'/><title type='text'>Birds?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;I was very excited to finally get a birdfeeder that I could watch from my craft room. So of course I fill it and wait...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looked like this. &lt;ahref="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SW4Ks_9_y3I/AAAAAAAAACM/2BuRKkH2v2c/s1600-h/Birdfeeder.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SW4Ks_9_y3I/AAAAAAAAACM/2BuRKkH2v2c/s1600-h/Birdfeeder.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291178380408900466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SW4Ks_9_y3I/AAAAAAAAACM/2BuRKkH2v2c/s320/Birdfeeder.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Then it was empty? But I still haven't seen any birds yet, what is going on? I refilled it and soon it was empty again. I had expected to see somthing like this...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291179478638665890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SW4Ls7MYIKI/AAAAAAAAACU/1TYGUFPN9Kk/s320/Birds+002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe even this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291179482375242754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SW4LtJHPxAI/AAAAAAAAACc/tdrMnavOShM/s320/Birds+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my surprise when I finally figured it out. This is what I found.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291179480231751026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SW4LtBIMrXI/AAAAAAAAACk/LyKZb2r8pLY/s320/Smokey+at+Birdfeeder+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Here is a closer view.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291179487734212258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SW4LtdE7JqI/AAAAAAAAACs/9Gw7Z7vDDu8/s320/Smokey+at+Birdfeeder.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Sneaky horse. . . wait is that D's hand holding the feeder for him? Now I know. At least I can see the others now and then.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-3101015535150875071?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3101015535150875071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/01/birds.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/3101015535150875071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/3101015535150875071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2009/01/birds.html' title='Birds?'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SW4Ks_9_y3I/AAAAAAAAACM/2BuRKkH2v2c/s72-c/Birdfeeder.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-7139810338015062402</id><published>2008-12-30T18:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T18:36:20.429-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='d'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='health'/><title type='text'>Christmas trials</title><content type='html'>Well D is finally getting better.  They kept changing his packing at the hospital but he wasn't getting better.  They changed his antibiotic and finally took the packing out and now it is healing.  Still is very swollen but at least he doesn't scream anymore when I accidentally grab his arm.  That plus me getting a nasty cold has kept us busy.  Hopefully the new year will be better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to get some pics on here soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-7139810338015062402?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/7139810338015062402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-trials.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/7139810338015062402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/7139810338015062402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas-trials.html' title='Christmas trials'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-451858618198390458</id><published>2008-12-21T20:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T20:16:38.180-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='d'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><title type='text'>Men and bugs</title><content type='html'>Last week my man D started complaining about a bite he'd gotten a week earlier.  Monday and Tuesday he decided to try some of his "little Grannie's" cures on it.  No go.  Wednesday it looked like he had a chicken egg under the skin on his arm.  So he decided to try to get in to his doctor.  He was told maybe by Friday they could see him.  We wound up at the Emergency room.  The doctor there lanced the abcess put some packing into in, gave him a perscription for antibiotics and told us to come back in two days.  Friday we went back, his arm is not as red or hot but the abcess is still about the same size.  They changed the packing and dressed it again.  Come back in two more days.  Sunday same thing.  I'm starting to wonder if this will ever end.  Hopefully we don't have to go there on Christmas day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope everyone is having a good Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-451858618198390458?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/451858618198390458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/men-and-bugs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/451858618198390458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/451858618198390458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/men-and-bugs.html' title='Men and bugs'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-8532483638172762913</id><published>2008-12-15T15:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T15:55:47.436-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Contests'/><title type='text'>Give Aways</title><content type='html'>Woo Hoo give aways.  I love them.  Check out &lt;a href="http://coloradolady.blogspot.com/"&gt;coloradolady&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://gitzengirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/canvas-for-christmas-day-1.html"&gt;gitzen girl&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-8532483638172762913?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/8532483638172762913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/give-aways.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/8532483638172762913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/8532483638172762913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/give-aways.html' title='Give Aways'/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-2168765332013661295</id><published>2008-12-12T10:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T16:48:08.674-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nature'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUK7h357eYI/AAAAAAAAAB8/maSLAIcERw0/s1600-h/Turkey.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUK7hkxUqNI/AAAAAAAAAB0/fryz_r25f-w/s1600-h/On+Guard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278987898712271058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 252px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUK7hkxUqNI/AAAAAAAAAB0/fryz_r25f-w/s320/On+Guard.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About two weeks ago this immature Eagle had landed on the power pole above my car. He sat there for about 2 hours. As you can see his head is not the true white of an adult and his back actually has some lighter feathers on it. His tail has no white yet. So he is obviously quite young. Beautiful though and large. The pole he is sitting on is about 8 inches in diameter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUK7hbptxHI/AAAAAAAAABs/YYuL-eaxbbk/s1600-h/Eagle+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278987896264442994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 271px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUK7hbptxHI/AAAAAAAAABs/YYuL-eaxbbk/s320/Eagle+001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one was sitting on the other power pole today. It had been up on the hill earlier. D and I had gone shopping, when we left it had a rabbit and took it to the top of the house. The younger one flew off as we got closer. Unfortunately I did not have my camera at that time. Then when we came home this one was sitting on the pole and the young one was on the ground. I still didn't have my camera so we parked the car as the young one flew off. I ran into the house and was able to get this picture before this one flew off as well. There were several other birds on the ground with the younger one. They were obviously not eagles but instead this is what they were . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUK8jLtqlKI/AAAAAAAAACE/QZ7TX9UQpJs/s1600-h/Turkey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278989025857410210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUK8jLtqlKI/AAAAAAAAACE/QZ7TX9UQpJs/s320/Turkey.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right turkeys! They didn't seem to care how close we got so I walked right up on them. I just love living in the country. I live about 10 miles outside of town, a state forest is backed up to the property. The wild life is great! Just gotta make sure that little Ralph doesn't get introduced to the eagles.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Correction these are Turkey Buzzards.  See what do I know?&lt;/em&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/1584454644982703193-2168765332013661295?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/2168765332013661295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/about-two-weeks-ago-this-immature-eagle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2168765332013661295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/2168765332013661295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/about-two-weeks-ago-this-immature-eagle.html' title=''/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUK7hkxUqNI/AAAAAAAAAB0/fryz_r25f-w/s72-c/On+Guard.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584454644982703193.post-5732622647501941439</id><published>2008-12-11T10:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T16:49:33.944-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Contests'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Well today I entered the Coloradolady's contest. Have to tell you she has great things to give away. Check it out &lt;a href="http://coloradolady.blogspot.com/2008/12/simple-sunday-christmas-cheer-giveaway.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to keep you up to date with contests that I find. Have to say that &lt;a href="http://gitzengirl.blogspot.com/"&gt;Gitzen Girl&lt;/a&gt; sent me here. Check out both blogs. I find I enjoy both of them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-5732622647501941439?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/5732622647501941439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/well-today-i-entered-coloradoladys.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/5732622647501941439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/5732622647501941439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/well-today-i-entered-coloradoladys.html' title=''/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</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-1584454644982703193.post-3827855985308593362</id><published>2008-12-10T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T10:10:03.069-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dogs'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Hello There,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Let's introduce the cast of characters.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUAAaOEcdvI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wyWPODldAlQ/s1600-h/Sam+and+Cocoa+Only.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278219213731559154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 202px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUAAaOEcdvI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wyWPODldAlQ/s320/Sam+and+Cocoa+Only.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The twins (Coco and Sam) are golden doodles. For those who have never heard of a golden doodle they are a cross between a standard poodle and a golden retriever. Golden Doodles were bred for the intelligence of the dogs and the coat. They make good seeing eye dogs. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUABGOgXIFI/AAAAAAAAAAc/n6cH5YeM3AE/s1600-h/All+dogs+007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278219969762893906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUABGOgXIFI/AAAAAAAAAAc/n6cH5YeM3AE/s320/All+dogs+007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ruff is a Cur. Or maybe I should just call her a mutt bred for hunting. I think she is what they call a black mouth cur but I'm not sure about that. I am sure she loves to hunt.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUAC-6LcNAI/AAAAAAAAAAk/U5oycBPdvbs/s1600-h/All+dogs+021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278222043070608386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUAC-6LcNAI/AAAAAAAAAAk/U5oycBPdvbs/s320/All+dogs+021.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Katie is a chocolate lab. She is our newest addition. A friend of mine was moving and couldn't take her 100 pound dog with her as they were moving into a smaller house. I have about 7 acres and couldn't bear for them to have to give her up. She has a very sweet dispostion and loves attention. Don't they all. Katie quickly found her place here. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278222600798302082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUADfX4Fb4I/AAAAAAAAAAs/D7Sl8Im0Wy0/s320/All+dogs+012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ralph on the other hand is a miniture poodle and all alpha dog! He is king! They even made a movie about him "King Ralph" pretty cool huh. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUAE9MfJJKI/AAAAAAAAAA0/VEfTApewbzs/s1600-h/All+dogs+003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278224212648600738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUAE9MfJJKI/AAAAAAAAAA0/VEfTApewbzs/s320/All+dogs+003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ruff was here first and her name describes her well. She is the one that will be in the lead when they are outside. She's also the one who came home with her chest ripped open (8 stitches worth). Then as soon as that healed she came home with a gash on top of her head and one under her chin. Sam is her usual running mate although Katie will give it a go, occasionally. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think Sam is the smartest of the three because one day all three were out running in the woods and she was the only one who came home without blood dripping. I think they found a bobcat or panther who just wanted to be left alone. Katie got quite a cut on her ear that needed extra care, while Ruf just had a small cut on her ear. Coco is a homebody, she goes outside to take care of business but otherwise wants to stay inside. She hates to see anyone alone. If my hubby is in the bedroom with the other dogs she will come find me and lay by my feet. While if the other dogs are by me she'll seek him out. Ralph being about 1/8th the size of the others will stay with Coco although he must have his occasional runs. He is my husband's dog. When we went to get him we walked into the house and Ralph got into my hubby's lap and that was it. They were both smitten. Ralph just settled himself onto D's lap and wasn't going to get up. He was happy to come home with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1584454644982703193-3827855985308593362?l=susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/feeds/3827855985308593362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/hello-there-lets-introduce-cast-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/3827855985308593362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1584454644982703193/posts/default/3827855985308593362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://susanssatoricalstories.blogspot.com/2008/12/hello-there-lets-introduce-cast-of.html' title=''/><author><name>sue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16972719320760604258</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1uAr20jQqHY/SUAAaOEcdvI/AAAAAAAAAAU/wyWPODldAlQ/s72-c/Sam+and+Cocoa+Only.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
