<?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-7408886245405571155</id><updated>2011-11-27T17:40:53.342-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Liza's Voice</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7408886245405571155.post-3525761509136171358</id><published>2011-01-25T15:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-25T15:39:07.787-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Laundry and other house cleaning fun</title><content type='html'>For the first time in awhile our laundry room is virtually laundry free, with the exception of the load in the washer and dryer.&amp;nbsp; Not doing any more laundry today....Okay well the day isn't over so there may be another load or two yet.&amp;nbsp; Just looked at the kids' coats and snowpants, and they look like they have seen better days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need to finish cleaning bathrooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now on to the next load of dishes, vacuuming, and whatever else I can come up with.&amp;nbsp; The joys of adulthood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish&lt;br /&gt;I could go back&lt;br /&gt;to childhood days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nagged &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; to keep my room clean&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Go &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Spend time&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; outside.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; It is &lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; a beautiful day."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No bills&lt;br /&gt;No job&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just do well&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; in school&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah.....to go back&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-3525761509136171358?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/3525761509136171358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=3525761509136171358' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/3525761509136171358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/3525761509136171358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2011/01/laundry-and-other-house-cleaning-fun.html' title='Laundry and other house cleaning fun'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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-7408886245405571155.post-679397852787276104</id><published>2011-01-24T21:29:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2011-01-24T21:41:57.224-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Blogging Again</title><content type='html'>Wow....I can't believe that my blog is still accessible. Seems like forever since I have been on this thing. I have checked it from time to time and have tried accessing some of my favorite pages. It is amazing how things have changed since I first set this blog up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first set this blog up, we lived in an old farmhouse on a five-acre piece of land....that house no longer exists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first set this blog up, I didn't have a Facebook account....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first set this blog up, our youngest child was in diapers and was less than a year old. That child will be starting kindergarten in September.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I set up this blog, my stepfather was still alive. He has been dead for 2 years now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I set up this blog, George W. Bush was president....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was blogging on here before, there was a woman that I used blog back and forth with who was going through some major issues with her husband. Last time that I checked, her blog had been deleted. So Nicole, I hope things are going well for you and I hope that I will hear from you again some day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On to new stuff.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-679397852787276104?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/679397852787276104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=679397852787276104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/679397852787276104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/679397852787276104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2011/01/blogging-again.html' title='Blogging Again'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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-7408886245405571155.post-6186268714251616180</id><published>2007-02-21T22:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-21T23:04:45.397-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't forget my Emily Elizabeth</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0kWnKyunI/AAAAAAAAAB4/XDVxUf7OW2s/s1600-h/DSC00741-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034219929360054898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0kWnKyunI/AAAAAAAAAB4/XDVxUf7OW2s/s320/DSC00741-2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My photo part of this blog would not be complete without a picture of my oldest daughter, Emily. She is a smart little 4 year old with a memory that just amazes me sometimes.&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/7408886245405571155-6186268714251616180?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/6186268714251616180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=6186268714251616180' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/6186268714251616180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/6186268714251616180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/02/cant-forget-my-emily-elizabeth.html' title='Can&apos;t forget my Emily Elizabeth'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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://bp3.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0kWnKyunI/AAAAAAAAAB4/XDVxUf7OW2s/s72-c/DSC00741-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7408886245405571155.post-2397923999863254316</id><published>2007-02-21T22:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-21T22:47:33.140-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture of my baby girl, Izabella</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0gSHKyumI/AAAAAAAAABs/2reD86OxB1g/s1600-h/DSC00904.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034215454004132450" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0gSHKyumI/AAAAAAAAABs/2reD86OxB1g/s320/DSC00904.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am just in the mood to share pictures tonight. Here is my 10 month old Izabella sitting in a high chair at Christmas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-2397923999863254316?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/2397923999863254316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=2397923999863254316' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/2397923999863254316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/2397923999863254316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/02/picture-of-my-baby-girl-izabella.html' title='Picture of my baby girl, Izabella'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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://bp1.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0gSHKyumI/AAAAAAAAABs/2reD86OxB1g/s72-c/DSC00904.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7408886245405571155.post-6300063464792351771</id><published>2007-02-21T22:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-21T22:43:02.624-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Changing it up.....here's a picture of my little Olivia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0ejHKyulI/AAAAAAAAABg/lvGRMexHznQ/s1600-h/DSC00944.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034213547038653010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0ejHKyulI/AAAAAAAAABg/lvGRMexHznQ/s320/DSC00944.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I thought that I would dress up the blog with a picture that I took a few days ago. My middle daughter Olivia just loves our little cat, Smokey. She walks around the house every day with the cat in her arms. It amazes me that the cat hasn't scratched the heck out of her considering how Smokey gets treated. She practicially strangles the cat sometimes as she is carrying her across the house. The cat doesn't even try getting away either, so Smokey must be a glutton for punishment...lol&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-6300063464792351771?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/6300063464792351771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=6300063464792351771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/6300063464792351771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/6300063464792351771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/02/changing-it-upheres-picture-of-my.html' title='Changing it up.....here&apos;s a picture of my little Olivia'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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://bp1.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/Rd0ejHKyulI/AAAAAAAAABg/lvGRMexHznQ/s72-c/DSC00944.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7408886245405571155.post-5474177659110020985</id><published>2007-02-16T22:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T22:15:30.339-06:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Saw.....in the face of a stranger</title><content type='html'>I was sitting at a gas station today waiting for my turn at the E85 pump and for some reason I glanced over at a lady sitting in the cab of a truck.  She was waiting for the driver to return.  For some reason she captivated my attention, and for the first time in a long time I wanted to write poetry.  Of course I had to keep repeating the words in my head until I could find a pen and paper to capture my thoughts.  The words in bold are what I came up with while I was waiting.  The rest were added on before I went to bed:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;tired face&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sorrowed eyes&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;lines of time&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;across saddened cheeks&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;as you sit and stare&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;unaware&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;        that I see&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what would you say&lt;br /&gt;if I came your way&lt;br /&gt;would you accept&lt;br /&gt;a helping hand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;or would you say&lt;br /&gt;oh not today&lt;br /&gt;just go away&lt;br /&gt;i'm fine&lt;br /&gt;okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can't help but wonder&lt;br /&gt;if i'm right&lt;br /&gt;and tonight&lt;br /&gt;will be a fight&lt;br /&gt;like every other night&lt;br /&gt;with no end in sight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more lines to form&lt;br /&gt;more tears to fall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as you look out a window&lt;br /&gt;and wish&lt;br /&gt;                to escape from it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-5474177659110020985?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/5474177659110020985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=5474177659110020985' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/5474177659110020985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/5474177659110020985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/02/what-i-sawin-face-of-stranger.html' title='What I Saw.....in the face of a stranger'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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-7408886245405571155.post-1055504353377645072</id><published>2007-02-02T10:28:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T11:00:53.660-06:00</updated><title type='text'>One Person's Junk mail....now a kid's collection</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/RcNt8Ueh6jI/AAAAAAAAABA/TEYi3wYVZfI/s1600-h/capital1+cards.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026982492131945010" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/RcNt8Ueh6jI/AAAAAAAAABA/TEYi3wYVZfI/s200/capital1+cards.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/RcNt8keh6kI/AAAAAAAAABI/GqQL2tjOULo/s1600-h/Credit+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026982496426912322" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/RcNt8keh6kI/AAAAAAAAABI/GqQL2tjOULo/s200/Credit+1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/RcNra0eh6fI/AAAAAAAAAAU/EvUXV7lozOM/s1600-h/Credit+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We get bombarded with credit card offers &lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/RcNrbEeh6gI/AAAAAAAAAAc/yCcv2z9xd1M/s1600-h/fave+credits.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;at our house. Nearly 1 credit card offer every day, sometimes more. I decided to save all the "credit cards" that we would get with these offers and let my kids play with them and to see how many credit card offers we would get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been saving these since we moved into our home. We have been at this house for about 1 1/2 years now, and we have quite a stack of those fake credit cards. There are a few of them that have some neat pictures, but for the most part they are plain. The total number of cards that I have saved so far are 44. In all honesty we have received more offers than this since we have been living in our home, but I just threw most of them away when we first moved into our home. Out of these 44 cards, 13 of them are from Capital One, 7 our from Household bank, 5 are from Orchard bank, and the others don't have any signs of bank names on them. Out of the ones that are not from Capital One, 99.9% of them are from MasterCard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to try to post a few pics of my "credit card collection." You would think that after about the 5th or 6th credit card application had been sent that Capital One would have gotten the clue that we aren't interested......obviously I was wrong. Not sure what to do with these cards, so if anyone has a suggestion, let me know.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&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/7408886245405571155-1055504353377645072?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/1055504353377645072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=1055504353377645072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/1055504353377645072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/1055504353377645072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/02/one-persons-junk-maila-kids-collection.html' title='One Person&apos;s Junk mail....now a kid&apos;s collection'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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://bp3.blogger.com/_kXiXxajW_zY/RcNt8Ueh6jI/AAAAAAAAABA/TEYi3wYVZfI/s72-c/capital1+cards.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7408886245405571155.post-5985934501137129096</id><published>2007-01-28T21:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T22:19:31.780-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My life - Chapter 1???</title><content type='html'>Anytime I think about an autobiography, I think that a person who writes an autobiography does it when they are getting into the later years of life.  Only an old person does such a thing.  I am only 30, so why would I think about writing a story about my life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that my life has been a bit different.  I was born in June 1976, in a relatively small city in Canada.  My mother was 37 at the time.  The closest sibling I had was my sister, Maryann, and she was 13-14 years old when I was born.  I also had another sister, Debbie, and a brother Ronnie, who are 11 months apart in age from each other, but they had already moved out of the home.  Guess you could say that I was an "oops" baby.  My mother was already a single mom when I came along.  Her husband had died over a year before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother was living on a farm near Lake Manitoba.  What a beautiful place that is.  You can go walking along the shore for miles, breathing in the fresh lake air and picking berries from nearby bushes.  The shoreline was a bit rocky, and the sand was a gray color.  Cows can sometimes be heard mooing in the distance.  If you look out across the lake you can see an island.  About a mile or so down the shore is a relatively primitive campground, only having an outhouse and access to electricity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother was always busy.  She worked 1 or 2 jobs most of the time, besides looking after the farm and her kids.  I remember her working at several different places over the years.  She worked at a place she calls "the Hotel."  I don't really remember much about it other than it sold beer and I think it had a restaurant.  I don't remember there being actual hotel rooms though, but I could be wrong.  A child's mind can be slightly distorted at times.  I think that this is the place she met my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother also worked at a place she called the Legion.  The only thing that I really remember about this place was that when my sister got married she had her reception there.  That night was pretty interesting for me because I met a boy that night and walked around and around that building for hours just talking to him.  Don't really remember what it was that we talked about, considering that was.......about 23 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The place that she worked at that was most memorable was a place called the Narrows.  She worked for Pete and his wife, Winnie.  They had a grandson named Chad, who was a year or so older than me.  Chad came up to my mother once when she was at work and asked her if I was her kid.  She said that I was.  He asked her if she could get me to stop bugging him on the bus.  Guess I was a bit of a bully then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Narrows brought a very important person into my mother's life.  While she was working, it wasn't uncommon to meet hunters from various parts of Canada and the United States.  This resort was well known in the area and played host to numerous hunters every fall.  My mother happened to catch the eye of one particular hunter from Minnesota.  He had hunted around the area before, and had met my brother some time before but didn't realize it until later on.  Well, my mother exchanged numbers with this Minnesota hunter, and honestly never expected to hear from him again.  She was wrong.  Not only did she hear from him, but she ended up marrying him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was almost seven when she got married to the Minnesota hunter, and my time living in Canada came to an end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-5985934501137129096?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/5985934501137129096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=5985934501137129096' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/5985934501137129096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/5985934501137129096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/01/my-life-chapter-1.html' title='My life - Chapter 1???'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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-7408886245405571155.post-2370895061510115926</id><published>2007-01-28T21:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T21:39:36.014-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing About My Life</title><content type='html'>My husband says that I should write a book about my life.  But would people actually find it interesting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is hard to look at my life and be objective about it.  What I find interesting, might not be all that interesting to anyone else.  How do I know what to include?  It seems like such a huge undertaking, but one that I have considered from time to time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When a project seems so big like this, I tend to just shy away from it altogether for fear of screwing it up somehow.  I fear that I will start writing and get stuck.  Then what?  Do I just get rid of everything that I have written and start again?  Ok, I guess I am rambling a bit.  I will talk about a few things in my life and see where it leads.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-2370895061510115926?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/2370895061510115926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=2370895061510115926' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/2370895061510115926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/2370895061510115926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/01/writing-about-my-life.html' title='Writing About My Life'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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-7408886245405571155.post-1659948189278090587</id><published>2007-01-15T01:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-15T01:19:10.280-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Gay marriage</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://blogsofnote.blogspot.com/"&gt;Blogs of Note&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/01/gay-marriage.html"&gt;Gay Marriage&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We should be up in arms about current divorce rate, not gay marriage I am not a regular church-goer by any means, having attended maybe four or five times in the past year. I do not know the last time I actually sat down and read any part of the Bible. Some may call me an atheist, and that’s fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call me what you will. I consider myself a Christian in every way that matters, though some may say I do not understand God’s teachings.Isn’t God supposed to be a loving and understanding God? Would he really want the hatefulness that people have been showing toward the gay community?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I know that it does say in the Bible that man should be with woman. Every religious leader seems to preach about that part of the Bible when talking about why everyone should oppose gay marriage. Even my mother, who was born and raised to be the good Catholic girl, harps on this Biblical truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet they conveniently seem to leave out another thing the Bible says: Do not judge others. Since I haven’t been to church in awhile, is it now common practice to pick and choose which parts of the Bible to adhere to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shouldn’t be crying foul about allowing gay marriage. We should be up in arms about the current divorce rate in this country. The heterosexual community still has the right to get married and the divorce rate shows total disregard for the sanctity of marriage.To me that is something that is far more troubling than allowing gay marriage.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-1659948189278090587?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://blogsofnote.blogspot.com/' title='Gay marriage'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/1659948189278090587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=1659948189278090587' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/1659948189278090587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/1659948189278090587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/01/gay-marriage_15.html' title='Gay marriage'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7408886245405571155.post-9218799399375077570</id><published>2007-01-07T21:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T22:29:25.583-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Online business opportunities</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It should be easy to find a decent paying job on the internet that I can do from the comfort of my own home. It shouldn't be too tough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;BOY, WAS I WRONG!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have already spent several hours trying to find a job that is relatively easy that I can do from the comfort of my own home, and that is flexible enough so that I will still be able to carry on the normal routine of a 3 children household.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Talk about a lot of crap out there, pardon my language. I had heard a lot of talk about doing surveys to earn some money. Sure, you can make money on some of them. You can make the money by filling out some long, tiresome survey and get your name put into a drawing where you might WIN some money. I had belonged to some of these sites over the years and have filled out many surveys. Guess what, I have NEVER won one of those nice money filled drawings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Some of those survey sites say they will pay for each survey you do. That is true, but there is one catch to all of these sites I have looked at. You have to not only fill out a lengthy survey, but then you have to complete one or sometimes more offers from other websites. That isn't bad sometimes if some of the offers are for things that interest you, such as a Blockbuster or Netflix offer for people who rent a lot of movies, which is something perfect for my household. The problem is that those offers almost always cost money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So how does anyone ever really come ahead on these survey sites? If you sign up for offers every time you do a survey, any money you have made on those surveys goes to pay for the offers you signed up for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So much for that idea. I have tried posting my resume and answering online ads for data entry positions, and have filled out applications on different jury websites to try to be an online juror. Guess I will just have to wait and see if THAT pans out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I guess if those ideas don't work, I could always go be a stripper. I have heard they make really good money......lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7408886245405571155-9218799399375077570?l=lizafaye.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/feeds/9218799399375077570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7408886245405571155&amp;postID=9218799399375077570' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/9218799399375077570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7408886245405571155/posts/default/9218799399375077570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lizafaye.blogspot.com/2007/01/online-business-opportunities.html' title='Online business opportunities'/><author><name>lizafaye</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04489149589691203772</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></feed>
