<?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-1515398300855027546</id><updated>2012-01-17T15:20:39.561-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Off the Beaten Path</title><subtitle type='html'>Randomness from the life of Allison Stolldorf.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-1805976853967533295</id><published>2011-04-11T16:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-11T16:03:45.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MSG- What?</title><content type='html'>I now have the answer I've been looking for, it just isn't the answer I want.&amp;nbsp; I've been feeling really sick after I eat most days.&amp;nbsp; I knew I must be allergic to something I was eating, but I couldn't figure out what on earth it was.&amp;nbsp; I would eat things that seemed to be from similar food groups and one time I would get really sick, and another only slightly sick.&amp;nbsp; Yeah, believe it or not it was pretty much a variance of degrees of sickness, there weren't many times I ate something and felt great afterward. &amp;nbsp; Perhaps this is why I've never understood why some of my friends love food.&amp;nbsp; I have a love hate relationship with food.&amp;nbsp; It tasted good, and it gives me energy, but then most of the time I feel like crap after I've eaten it.&amp;nbsp; Doesn't really make you want to eat.&amp;nbsp; I have the luck of also being hypoglycemic, so if I don't eat my blood pressure drops and I become a zombie- no one wants that.&amp;nbsp; So not eating just wasn't an option for me- which meant finding out what I was allergic to was very pressing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was my dad or my sister who suggested MSG.&amp;nbsp; My grandmother Rolison is allergic to it as well.&amp;nbsp; So I did what any person would do.&amp;nbsp; I went to the internet.&amp;nbsp; I found a reputable site that had information on MSG and what side effects they could have on someone.&amp;nbsp; What do you know- every single side effect I had was on that list.&amp;nbsp; I was one step closer to diagnosing myself (I hate going to the doctors office).&amp;nbsp; Then once I read up on it- which was crazy and I highly suggest you do some research for yourself.&amp;nbsp; Did you know that MSG can cause brain damage and reproduction problems?&amp;nbsp; Yeah, kinda frightening.&amp;nbsp; Anyway, so now I had an idea of what might be wrong, so I did a test.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I looked up the things I had been eating that had made me really sick- every one of them contained MSG.&amp;nbsp; Then I had some meals with absolutely no MSG, and made sure I went without it for a day.&amp;nbsp; I felt great that day- well compared to normal anyway.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I didn't feel sick at all after I ate, it was fantastic!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I breathed a sigh of relief- I know what is wrong with me, and it's something I can fix.&amp;nbsp; I just need to not eat things with MSG in it.&amp;nbsp; Easy, right?&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Yeah... not so much.&amp;nbsp; Just about EVERYTHING has MSG in it.&amp;nbsp; Except they don't just say MSG, they have code words- lots and lots of code words.&amp;nbsp; "Seasoning", "Natural Flavors", "Yeast Extract" the list goes on an on and on and on.&amp;nbsp; I do not understand how something that can cause brain legions is allowed to not be properly labeled.&amp;nbsp; &lt;i&gt;Someone&lt;/i&gt; is making a lot of money for looking the other way, that's for sure.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I am off to an MSG free life- which is a healthier life and also a cooking life since pretty much everything that is prepackaged contains the offending product.&amp;nbsp; So now I am going to attempt to cook, and find a way to live and eat without having MSG.&amp;nbsp; It's daunting- let me tell you.&amp;nbsp; But my sister is a great cook, and she eats healthy and doesn't used over processed foods.&amp;nbsp; So I am going to try and take after her and see if I can come halfway to being as good a cook as she is (it's doubtful, people)&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to a healthier life that is sure to be full of tons of FAILED attempts at cooking!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-1805976853967533295?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/1805976853967533295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2011/04/msg-what.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/1805976853967533295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/1805976853967533295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2011/04/msg-what.html' title='MSG- What?'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-5276529161354062706</id><published>2011-04-06T20:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-06T20:48:07.093-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Angels Among Us</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:WordDocument&gt;   &lt;w:View&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:Zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:PunctuationKerning/&gt;   &lt;w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/&gt;   &lt;w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:Compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:BreakWrappedTables/&gt;    &lt;w:SnapToGridInCell/&gt;    &lt;w:WrapTextWithPunct/&gt;    &lt;w:UseAsianBreakRules/&gt;    &lt;w:DontGrowAutofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:BrowserLevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !mso]&gt;&lt;img src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/video_object.png" style="background-color: #b2b2b2; " class="BLOGGER-object-element tr_noresize tr_placeholder" id="ieooui" data-original-id="ieooui" /&gt; &lt;style&gt;st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) }&lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt; /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;}&lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;So I just took a slightly frightening undertaking.&amp;nbsp; I have officially signed up for my very first 5k!&amp;nbsp; I am not a runner (yet), but this is my first step.&amp;nbsp; I want some someday run a half marathon, hopefully by the end of this year.&amp;nbsp; So I figured a 5k would be necessary to complete before I started full on training for the half. I know, all of you are thinking I am crazy right now, and you're probably right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is how it all started- I had decided I wanted to do a 5k in maybe late May or early June.&amp;nbsp; I figured that would give me enough time to train up and be able to run 3 miles no problem.&amp;nbsp; But of course things never happen the way I think they will.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was studiously researching different races and looking for some 5k in my area.&amp;nbsp; So I saw one on the list in Durham.&amp;nbsp; I thought "sweet, that's really close to where I live."&amp;nbsp; So I clicked on it and saw it was a 5k and the date was April 30th.&amp;nbsp; Yeah, right!&amp;nbsp; So just as I was about to x out of that site I took a quick glance at what the race was for, and for that I am now signed up to run a 5k at the end of April.&amp;nbsp; Eeek.&amp;nbsp; I still haven't been able to run 3 miles.&amp;nbsp; I'm not sure if I've even pulled out a straight 2 mile run in the past month, but I'm working on it, and sloooowwwwlly but surely I will get there.&amp;nbsp; I am determined to finish the race and not "quit and sit down" as my Granny so graciously told me I could do without remorse, thanks Gran.&amp;nbsp; Haha.&amp;nbsp; But that's another story.&amp;nbsp; So the whole reason I am now in this crazy thing is because I saw that this race is a fundraiser for the Duke Tisch Brain Tumor Center research.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you know by now by my previous posts, my mother died of a brain tumor when she was 47 years old. So I am doing this for her.&amp;nbsp; But more so, I am doing it for all of the other families out there, so that hopefully they won't have to lose their loved ones, but can walk by them day to day throughout long lives.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I am asking you, dear readers, to please donate.&amp;nbsp; Please help me fund research to find the cure for brain cancer.&amp;nbsp; You can check out my fundraiser page:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://dccc.convio.net/site/TR/Angels/TR-AngelsAmongUs?px=1051708&amp;amp;pg=personal&amp;amp;fr_id=1080&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks guys!&amp;nbsp; I'll keep you updated on how the race goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-5276529161354062706?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/5276529161354062706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2011/04/angels-among-us.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/5276529161354062706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/5276529161354062706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2011/04/angels-among-us.html' title='Angels Among Us'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-8321482959165638298</id><published>2011-02-05T12:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T12:33:49.284-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter Wonderland?</title><content type='html'>It seems like all I've been hearing about lately is the crazy blizzards people are having. Up north some people have barely been able to get out of their homes. Down south, the unusual weather is having kids put socks on their hands - I guess they don't see any need for actual gloves. Who needs fingers anyway? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear complaints from everyone about how cold it is. (Although, not from my sister who lives in Florida. When she says it's cold, I ignore her.) Weather can be a real issue. It's not always just the polite conversational piece for when you don't know what to talk about. For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yTIFZqiI/AAAAAAAAAHY/kNpWFFR2Hjo/s1600/snowstuck.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="267" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yTIFZqiI/AAAAAAAAAHY/kNpWFFR2Hjo/s400/snowstuck.JPG" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being without my own car for almost a month gives me great sympathy for these people. "So where is your car?" "Oh, it's on the interstate, most likely getting run over by a snow plow." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While everyone else surrounding North Carolina was getting snow. We were at a balmy 70 degrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yVfZy0uI/AAAAAAAAAHc/jTAyBCIOS1Y/s1600/sunny-beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="249" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yVfZy0uI/AAAAAAAAAHc/jTAyBCIOS1Y/s320/sunny-beach.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True to my prediction, the very next day we were here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yRCKw3DI/AAAAAAAAAHU/E9n09KaSwGg/s1600/rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yRCKw3DI/AAAAAAAAAHU/E9n09KaSwGg/s1600/rain.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Cold and rainy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;All this time I am sitting here wondering-&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Where is MY winter wonderland? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yPJFhd5I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/1M4cgN6_C5s/s1600/nycsnow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yPJFhd5I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/1M4cgN6_C5s/s1600/nycsnow.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I admit I am not the average North Carolinian who loves warm weather and complains when it gets down to 40 degrees. Although I get cold easily, there is such a thing called winter clothing, it really is a fabulous creation. I want nothing more than to look outside and see white everywhere and it would be even better if that somewhere happened to be in NYC. But for now, I am trucking through the rain, dreamily transporting myself to my very own winter paradise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-8321482959165638298?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/8321482959165638298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2011/02/winter-wonderland.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/8321482959165638298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/8321482959165638298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2011/02/winter-wonderland.html' title='Winter Wonderland?'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TU2yTIFZqiI/AAAAAAAAAHY/kNpWFFR2Hjo/s72-c/snowstuck.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-2098456039014993273</id><published>2010-10-28T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-28T08:44:42.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Live is Christ, to Die is Gain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TMmXCUquQ4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/nz6CeeU7vjI/s1600/mom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 173px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TMmXCUquQ4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/nz6CeeU7vjI/s320/mom.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533119683364799362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     Today my mom would have turned 51 years old, and I would have made fun of her for being an old geezer.  There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss her.  But I am so thankful that I will get to see her again, and cannot wait to go give her a big hug. &lt;br /&gt;     My mom was an incredible woman, and I aspire to someday be even a little bit like her.  She was always gracious and kind, caring, she had a servants heart.  She was always doing something for someone else, and rarely did I ever see her actually do anything for just her.  She was an honest woman, those of you who knew her know that you didn't ask her a question unless you wanted the absolute truth!  (Liz, you know what I'm talking about)  One of my favorite quotes "Preach always, and when necessary, use words" embodied my mother to a 'T'. &lt;br /&gt;     I am always running into people who give me little snippets of memories that they have of Cheryl (my mom).  Just yesterday I was talking with Hannah Reeves and she noted that every time she started cross stitching she would hear my moms voice saying to always wash your hands before you pick up your needle and thread.  Or Penelope recalling my mom freaking out a little because Penelope wasn't measuring the flour correctly.  You never put the measuring scoop in there people!  Although most people saw her servant side, and her sweet and demure kindness, I was one of those privileged to see her side of humor, (which was dry, btw.  I mean, we ARE Welsh!)  She always had a smile for us, and she would have hated the photo I just put up of her because it shows her gums, but that was her real smile, the one she gave when she was really happy, it was the one I treasured the most and always felt a sense of satisfaction when I got to see it. &lt;br /&gt;     She touched so many lives, but possible none more than her children.  She gave us all of her love, and so much more.  My mother had beautiful hands, hands that were always giving, always comforting, always working.  She was a beautiful woman inside and out.  I will always miss her, but I am so comforted to know she is in a better place where she is no longer sick, and will never be sad, but most of all that she gets to be with the love of her life, Jesus.  I love you, mom!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-2098456039014993273?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/2098456039014993273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/10/to-live-is-christ-to-die-is-gain.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/2098456039014993273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/2098456039014993273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/10/to-live-is-christ-to-die-is-gain.html' title='To Live is Christ, to Die is Gain'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TMmXCUquQ4I/AAAAAAAAAGs/nz6CeeU7vjI/s72-c/mom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-7355272720286398179</id><published>2010-10-25T18:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T19:06:34.794-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cleansed</title><content type='html'>So this is going to be a long one, I thought a lot about whether or not to post this, but in the end although it is very personal, I know that it just screams God and his amazing might and so I wanted to share:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;I have a story to tell, and it’s a love story.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;I  have been dealing with depression for the past three years, some times  were worse than others.  It was something that I couldn’t shake.  I’ve  been on meds, and those helped, but never fixed the problem.  Recently  it got so bad that all I could really do all day was lie around in bed  and do nothing.  I felt hopeless, devoid of any passions for life or  anything in it.  Deonni, my dad’s wife, was in charge of heading up a  series called ‘cleansing stream’ at her church which is a part of a  larger organization.  It consisted of going to the meetings on Tuesday  nights, watching the video’s and then having small group discussions.   My dad and Deonni suggested I take the course, and said that they would  cover the expenses for it.  I agreed, more because I couldn’t think of  an excuse not to, and it sounded interesting.  I went to the first  meeting, and I hated it.   I wanted to leave, to get out of there.   The  next week came and I literally begged, whined more like it, making  excuses why I couldn’t go.  It was too much for me, I couldn’t handle  being around all those people, my depression and anxiety were my crutch  and I waved them hoping to be able to plead understandably incapable of  going.   It didn’t work.  While I could say no to my dad, I felt really  bad about saying no to Deonni; she really loved this thing and I could  tell she had a passion for it.   I wasn’t about to be the one to tell  her I thought it was dumb and boring.  So I went, and again the next  week, until I had made it to the meetings then suddenly the ‘retreat’  was looming in front of me.  I kicked and screamed the whole way, and  there was a big part of me that really didn’t want to go.  I didn’t know  anyone there after all, it wasn’t my church, oh I made up plenty of  excuses.  But I had also been listening during the meetings, and I had  been doing some of my own praying and delving into the bible, and I knew  that if I really wanted to get closer to God and be filled with the  Holy Spirit, then giving up on an opportunity for people to pray for me  was just plain stupid.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;     I made the drive down to Charlotte alone, because I was going to stay  afterward to visit one of my best friends who I hadn’t been able to see  in over a year and a half.  I can tell you while driving down there I  seriously contemplated ditching the seminar and just going straight to  my friend’s place.  But again, it had already been paid for and Deonni  would be expecting me and I couldn’t really see a way out of it.  I went  the first night of the retreat and beforehand as I had done for the  entire week I prayed that god might fill me with the spirit and I would  get closer to him.  I thought maybe we would delve into some of the  issues I had with my dad and then maybe i could have a better  relationship with him.  That’s honestly what I expected and hoped to get  out of the whole thing.  The first night they talked about ‘the orphan  spirit’ and I could relate, it was the message that I thought was going  to be mind blowing for me, yet when I went up for prayer, I felt, well,  silly.   It was good, but after the first night I realized if that first  message hadn’t blown any barriers for me then I wasn’t going to be able  to get any help down the road, because that had been the one where it  specifically talked about one’s relationship with one’s parents.  I  enjoyed the worship though, and so I figured at least I would get  something out of it, and maybe I just needed a weekend worshiping God,  and it would help - a little - maybe.  The next morning I got up and  sleepily made my way back to the church where the retreat was being  held.  One of the messages was about ‘Guilt, Shame, and Condemnation’.   I thought it was a decent message, and figured it would probably  resonate with some of the people here, good for them.  Then we were led  in a prayer and they asked us to ask god to give us a memory, I already  had this one down I thought.  I had my memory all ready, but I did pray  and instead of the expected memory I was given a different one, one that  I try to never think about.  It shocked me; I already dealt with this,  why was I thinking about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;  moment?  Confused I relived the memory, and I tried to note the  unbiblical beliefs that were held in that moment.  I remembered it  clearly as if it was happening right then.  The moment I dumped out all  my pills on my bedspread.  Staring at them, wondering if it would be  enough to do the job, because I didn’t want to be one of those  ‘attempts’, I wanted to succeed.  With it I recalled all my reasons, all  my thoughts, oh those shamefully awful thoughts.  ‘&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;There’s  no point. You’re worthless.  You’re stupid.   You’re better off dead.   It will make everyone else’s lives easier.  No will will miss you.  No  one loves you.  You are unlovable.  You are a hideous freak.  Even your  own mother would died because she didn’t want to fight to stay with  you.’  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;Stop.  Stop. STOP.  Why am I having to relive this?   It happened, it’s over, I  don’t want to be here again.  And then I heard a small voice, one I  recognized vaguely as my own, say ‘but you never left’.  That shot me  bolt upright.  I swallowed hard, accepting the truth, I may have left  those pills that one night, but that moment, and those words never  ceased to haunt me.  I had just masked it so well, hidden it so deep I  didn’t even realize it was there anymore.  I had shoved it in the back  of the closet under a pile of junk just as one does an unloved doll that  you can’t throw away but you just don’t want anymore.  All of those  feelings washed over me like I tidal wave, and I wasn’t sure if I was  going to make it up for air.  And then they told us to ask God into our  memory, I winced but did it anyway.  I didn’t want God to see this; I  wanted him to love me.  When they asked us to listen for God, and try  and hear what He had to say about it, I was overcome.  I saw a face  behind my eyelids, but it wasn’t sneering at me in disgust. Rather, I  saw precious tears streaming down His face matching my own.  He looked  at me with those sad eyes, full of grief and told me ‘But I have so much  more for you.  I have a purpose for you, can you not see?’  Those words  tore my already broken heart to shreds.  When my turn came to be prayed  for I went over to a woman who started talking to me about the message  and told me to wipe the veil off from my eyes so I could see as the  Father sees, she wanted me to see how much He loved me.  And she asked  me to raise up my hands and lift my face towards heaven and just feel  his love.  I did the motions, but as I raised my face up, there was no  smile, I felt the traitorous tears seeping out and I shut my eyes  because I couldn’t look up to Him, not like this.  I just couldn’t do  it.  She encouraged me and repeated His love and asking me to feel it,  ‘smile’ she said.  I only made out a grimace.  And then suddenly behind  the lady praying for me came one of the team leaders in the retreat.  He  asked the woman to pause for a moment and as he looked I warily looked  back.  Then he said these words, ‘I am getting a sense that (pause) you  don’t like the person that you see in the mirror every morning.’ Deer in  headlights.  How could this man see me?  I could almost feel him  looking at my true self, my inward soul.  And I knew right then, that  those words were not his own, and his eyes had been given light to my  true deformed being by god.  I choked back a sob, ‘You’re right.  I  don’t’.  And suddenly I was saying out loud some of the things I had  never let myself think in private.  I was prayed for again, and the lady  hugged me and told me that although she did have to continue down the  line and pray for others, she was SURE by the end of the day I would be  better, I smiled, not really believing her.  I still felt wretched, but  before I left she asked me if I still had any single thought similar to  the ones I just shared at the end of the day to please find her and she  would pray for me again; she said I would not leave here without feeling  cleansed.  As I walked back to my seat I thought to myself that if that  was going to be true it was going to be one long night and there would  need to be a whole team of people because I was just a hopeless case.  I  sat back down, knowing God loved me, but for some reason I was not all  that comforted.  I felt as though I had an infectious, deep, ugly wound  and someone told me that a kiss would make it all better.  I sat through  another short message, and went up again to be prayed for, but it just  didn’t help.  I was trying to let myself feel numb, willing myself to  let all of the feeling out of my body and be blank, it was my only tried  and proved defense mechanism.  The sad part is, I didn’t even realize I  was doing it.  It came so naturally to me.  It wasn’t until one of the  guys from my group sitting next to me said “Man girl, you are completely  shut off.”  I looked up questioningly at him.  “Look at you.  Every  part of you is crossed, you’re legs are crossed, your arms are crossed,  even your eyes are crossed.  You sure are defensive.”  “No, I’m not.” I  answered quickly.  “This is just how I’m comfortable.”  Well that was  true, I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: italic; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;  comfortable that way, it was the only way to hold myself together.  I  closed my eyes and forced myself to slowly relax, made myself uncross my  legs, and painfully brought my fists from my stomach to my legs.  I  breathed out slowly, ‘I can do this’ I told myself. The next message was  on ‘the victim spirit’, and the whole time I was consciously making  myself keep still, and had to stop myself several times from folding my  arms to my chest as something was said that hit a little too close to  home.  I felt ever bit a victim in that moment, and the gun was aimed  right at my chest.  When my turn came to be prayed for I went up,  knowing I was going to walk away with all the turmoil just as I had  every other time.  I almost just wanted him to say a prayer for me and  just be done with it.  Again, as the prayer started the same man as  before came up and peered around at me, and shook his head a little  sadly and said, “You have a giant target on your chest.”  I felt the  tears starting to rise.  Why did this man have to see me so clearly?   And why was he so right?  I was a little surprised when instead of just  praying for me and sending me on my way, my prayer member asked me to  pray, in my own words rejecting any spirit of victimization.  “Ummm.   Spirit of victimization, I reject you.” I said lamely, and that's  exactly how I felt, lame and silly.   But obviously a one liner wasn’t  going to do it for this guy. I shut my eyes tight and I said it again,  but this time I kind of meant it.  As words started coming out of my  mouth I felt myself get stronger and stronger, but even more so I  started getting angry.  Angry because I suddenly realized that I had  been lied to.  And that it wasn’t just some depression feelings that  were normal, and I was just cursed genetically.  No, there were  parasites, and they were feeding off of me, and even worse, I had let  them.  This wasn’t just a disease, this was a spiritual warfare.  And  I’d be damned if I sat there and let those sneaky little things creep  around any longer.  I was going to talk to the little vermin, “I reject  you, and I reject your lies.  I reject you telling me that I can’t do  it.  I reject you telling me every day that I can’t get up. Your time is  up!  I know your game, and I know you’re there. You may NOT torment me  any longer.  You are not allowed here.  I will not listen to your lies  any more.  In the blood of Jesus Christ, GET OUT!  I command you in the  name of Jesus to leave now, and you may never come back!”  I opened up  my eyes to see the man before me nod, “You said that with quite a bit of  conviction.”  Almost shocked at myself, I replied, “well I felt it”  As  he laid his hands on my and began to pray I felt immense relief.  When I  had taken command in the name of Jesus, I had felt something seep out  of my gut.  As I walked back to my seat, I searched and searched, trying  to catch any hint of those thoughts, and they weren’t there.  I felt  light, I felt happy, I felt loved.  I wanted to smile at everyone and  tell them I loved them, tell them how beautiful they all were.  I felt  free. My God, my God who saved me, had answered the prayers I didn’t  even think to ask.  Not only was I filled with the Holy Spirit that day,  but I was rid of my depression.  I was rid of those chains that had  bound me.  It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. For the rest of  the day I kept that knowledge close to my chest like a precious jewel.   Frightened that I might somehow lose it, and yet knowing that I never  would.  I rejoiced inwardly and praised outwardly.  If only everyone  could be as happy as me.  I am a child of the King, I am my Beloveds and  He is mine.  To know, to truly know that you are loved, and you are  purely clean because the Lamb of God died for you - well, it’s  priceless. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;     The retreat was coming to an end and as Pastor Tim asked for a few  people to come up and share their testimonies, I was excited to hear  what God had done for others.   Surely, there would be an overload of  people wanting to share, I wasn’t going to.  I marveled when I heard of  the woman who had been healed of all her pain, and who once could not  even bend could now touch her toes, but I fought as I felt that nudge  urging me on.  No, not me, please not me.  I just want to enjoy this, I  was to keep this precious gift all to myself.  Another person shared.   Where was everyone?  They had asked for 7 or 8 people and so far there  were only 3!  No, no, no.  Please not me.  2 more people came up, and  still I felt as though I was supposed to be up front and let everyone  know what God had done.  I made a deal with God, hoping I would win.   ‘If a 7th person doesn’t go up there then I will.’  I was pretty sure  that at least a couple more people would make a move for it.  I saw the  6th, but there was no sign of the 7th.  God wasn’t giving me any slack,  so I obeyed, albeit reluctantly and trembling might I add.   As I  briefly shared what God had done, I prayed silently that this wouldn’t  be just to humiliate me but perhaps to help someone.  But how good God  is.  As I breathed a sigh of relief on finishing my ordeal, the pastor  (Tim) who was heading up the retreat gave me a prophesy.  “I believe  that God has a purpose for you, and that he will use you to help heal  others just as you have been healed.”  Oh if it may only be! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;     Before I walked out to my car a woman came up to me and thanked me for  sharing my testimony.  “I sat next to you twice, and I could just tell  that there was something hanging over you.  And I prayed for you.   I  prayed that God would heal you.  And don’t you see, He answered my  prayers!” She smiled with a tear in her eye.  “And if He will answer my  prayer for someone else, then He can surely answer prayers for me.”  Oh  sweet woman, I pray that God will answer your prayers.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;Now  can you see?  Can you see how beautiful life is?  Because I can.  When  God is put in His rightful place in our eyes, hearts, and souls, then  how can you not but rejoice and be happy?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-family: Arial; background-color: transparent; text-decoration: none;"&gt;“Hello,  beautiful.” I said to my reflection the next morning.  I know it’s  corny, but it made me laugh, and I just can’t stop, nor would I want it  any other way.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-7355272720286398179?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/7355272720286398179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/10/cleansed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/7355272720286398179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/7355272720286398179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/10/cleansed.html' title='Cleansed'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-7400040373219375764</id><published>2010-10-19T08:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T08:33:22.837-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Answers without knowledge</title><content type='html'>After my last post I have been doing a lot of inward searching, "what is it I want to do?"  "Who am I really?"  "What is my purpose?"   And thankfully I found an answer, at the only place one can actually find a true and perfect answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     "But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added to you.  Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. "           -Matt 6:33-34&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that I had been looking in all the wrong places, trying to figure out what kind of job would be best for me.  Although those are still issues, and I still don't have the answer to them, I feel more at peace about it than I have in a long time.  I realize I DON'T have the answers.  And-amazingly enough- THAT'S OKAY.  I don't need to know, because He does.  And in time He will show me what to do and where to go, but right now all He asks of me is to seek Him whole heartedly and let everything else fall into place in due time.  It's not an easy thing for one who likes to be able to be in control, but I realize that my hard-headed stubbornness is something that needs to be overcome and He is asking me to do what I have the hardest time doing- trusting.  And so I have to overcome my fears, and do what I almost never do, I have to trust someone.  Thankfully that someone is God, and I happen to know that he has my best interest at heart.  Even though sometimes I don't agree with His methods at the time.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-7400040373219375764?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/7400040373219375764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/10/sandy-slopes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/7400040373219375764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/7400040373219375764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/10/sandy-slopes.html' title='Answers without knowledge'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-3217575286301743002</id><published>2010-09-25T15:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-25T15:38:38.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To be or not to be?</title><content type='html'>"Life is short", it's a saying I've been hearing since I was little.  Normally it ends with "so do something." or other versions along those lines.  But lately I've been wondering how people actually intend you to take that?  Does it mean that they think you should follow in their example and lead a life like their own?  Maybe they mean for you to be more adventurous and live the life of a gypsy (I have to say this one appeals to me).  Or perhaps just that you should make the most out of each situation and not take a day for granted.  Whatever they mean by it, it just got me to thinking about my own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want my life to count for something, I want to do something meaningful, but what?  Now here's where I get stuck.  I could be a doctor, but I hate science.  I could go into acting which I've always loved, but pretentious people annoy me.  I could become a psychologist, but then I'd have to go through 8 more years of school and write and defend a thesis, not something I jump at I assure you.  As I was thinking of my own dilemma, I began to wonder how many others feel the same way I do.   We are all told to go to college, to finish high school.  I uphold these ideals as much as the next person.  But we were given this formula as though it would give you the key to success, and just go to college and everything will just fall into place for you.  But it doesn't work like that.  There are decisions you have to make along the way that make a difference in your future.  What major, what minor, which classes to take, where to volunteer, who you meet.  But even with all of these, it by no means leads you to happiness.  How is it that I have met so many people who have finished with school but just have no idea what to do with their lives now. We completed the equation to find out that the answer is 0.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its frustrating not having your career set out for you, not knowing exactly what it is that you want to do, not even sure what you're really good at.  It makes you feel like the last kid picked for the dodge ball game.  But even though its impossible to know the future, I know that I have an advantage.  Although I may not know my career, or where I am going to be in 5 years, I know that while I do not know these things, there is one who does and He will help me along the way.  So here's to not knowing what's going on, but walking ahead anyway, one step at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-3217575286301743002?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/3217575286301743002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/09/to-be-or-not-to-be.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/3217575286301743002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/3217575286301743002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/09/to-be-or-not-to-be.html' title='To be or not to be?'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-5536418975765561768</id><published>2010-09-15T09:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T10:05:13.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beginnings</title><content type='html'>I realized just how horrible I have been about posting on this blog.  I started it a while back to keep people up to date with my daily life, especially as those I love no longer live right next door to me.  It's been over a year since I last posted, and what a year it has been.  So much has happened, but one of the biggest is I moved across the country. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For 6 months I lived in Berkeley, CA.  It was gorgeous there.  The weather was between 55 and 72 degrees daily.  Being on the San Francisco Bay with breathtaking views was truly and experience.  Sadly I don't have many pictures as my camera is lost battery power and I couldn't find my charger, oh and I lost my USB cable.  Are you noticing a trend? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always thought that the pictures of San Francisco must be altered some to make it look prettier, and that the pictures of the golden gate bridge must be taken at special occasions when it could really look that beautiful and have the fog hit it in just such a way.  But I quickly found out that California is just a land of fairy tales and beauty.  Driving to IKEA we would look to our right and the bay would lay out before us like a cool and serene gem with the city in the background.  It's amazing how quickly we become accustomed to such magnificence and it becomes 'normal'.  I appreciate it doubly now that I am back home in North Carolina. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had adventures, learned a lot about myself, thought I was going to get murdered, was on the bridge when there was a suicide attempt, got lost, befriended homeless people, had a random person smoking crack in my neighbors back yard, made friends, lived in a place I never thought I would, saw beauty, walked into as many art galleries as I could, and had an all around experience.  It is easy to glorify things more when you are no longer there.  I am not saying it was an easy experience.  It pushed me in every single way, but I know that we can only grow from our experiences.  I can honestly say that I know that being back in NC is the right thing for me at the moment, but I have absolutely no regrets moving out to CA.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-5536418975765561768?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/5536418975765561768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/09/beginnings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/5536418975765561768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/5536418975765561768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2010/09/beginnings.html' title='Beginnings'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-6671567727654265714</id><published>2009-07-26T21:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T21:22:12.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Melia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0omdHsUxI/AAAAAAAAAFw/6LxSMGVqlew/s1600-h/MeMelia6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0omdHsUxI/AAAAAAAAAFw/6LxSMGVqlew/s320/MeMelia6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362987372385162002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Melia decided it would be a good idea to try&lt;br /&gt;see how my nose tasted.  This pose didn't last long&lt;br /&gt;seeing as this cutie now posses some sharp chompers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0omOxCsKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/_AUAGdCWtIw/s1600-h/MeMelia5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0omOxCsKI/AAAAAAAAAFo/_AUAGdCWtIw/s320/MeMelia5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362987368532062370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She can always make me smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0olzz2Z7I/AAAAAAAAAFg/gUBgGOo2SNA/s1600-h/MeMelia4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0olzz2Z7I/AAAAAAAAAFg/gUBgGOo2SNA/s320/MeMelia4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362987361296082866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Kisses, hey I do whatever it takes to steal&lt;br /&gt;kisses from Melia.  Now like she has a shortage&lt;br /&gt;of them.  But she's just so stinking cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0olrT8z5I/AAAAAAAAAFY/Q5A7h4vGzmQ/s1600-h/MeMelia3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0olrT8z5I/AAAAAAAAAFY/Q5A7h4vGzmQ/s320/MeMelia3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362987359014801298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Do you see those cheeks?  Normally I don't&lt;br /&gt;do the whole pinching cheek thing.  A year ago I&lt;br /&gt;would have said that I was totally against it. &lt;br /&gt;But you just cannot resist pinching those chunky cheeks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0olg63J-I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/qhxEYG57aT4/s1600-h/MeMelia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0olg63J-I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/qhxEYG57aT4/s320/MeMelia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362987356225218530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Melia is growing up so fast.  The night these&lt;br /&gt;pictures were taken was the first night she walked.&lt;br /&gt;She had taken a step before, but she took 3 steps&lt;br /&gt;directly toward me.  I was entirely too thrilled.  She&lt;br /&gt;went from those three steps to taking up to 5 just&lt;br /&gt;in that one night.  Now she walks around almost everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot believe that she is almost one years old!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-6671567727654265714?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/6671567727654265714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/07/melia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/6671567727654265714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/6671567727654265714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/07/melia.html' title='Melia'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/Sm0omdHsUxI/AAAAAAAAAFw/6LxSMGVqlew/s72-c/MeMelia6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-907794967852661320</id><published>2009-07-05T10:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T11:16:33.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summertime and the living's easy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDqlr_rPiI/AAAAAAAAAFA/so99qR7Zr7Q/s1600-h/DSC00312.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDqlr_rPiI/AAAAAAAAAFA/so99qR7Zr7Q/s320/DSC00312.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355037890129378850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;My best friend Vye and I were fooling around with the camera&lt;br /&gt;while her hubby, Tofer, was on a road trip to CA.  This is just&lt;br /&gt;one pic from the montage, we were having flashbacks to being 16.&lt;br /&gt;Pretending to be blond, not too far from the truth at times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDqlch3tPI/AAAAAAAAAE4/P2TCqJ4kUhA/s1600-h/DSC00326.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDqlch3tPI/AAAAAAAAAE4/P2TCqJ4kUhA/s320/DSC00326.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355037885977834738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My adorable little Persephone is getting so big. &lt;br /&gt;I have to give her kisses often; slightly in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDqk5URk7I/AAAAAAAAAEw/mpigHd4fch8/s1600-h/DSC00238.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/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDqk5URk7I/AAAAAAAAAEw/mpigHd4fch8/s320/DSC00238.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355037876525568946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;As most of you know, I am a nanny for a 2 year old&lt;br /&gt;little girl.  Her name is Schei and right here she is&lt;br /&gt;cheesing for the camera, this is her interpretation of&lt;br /&gt;"smile!".  She's a real cutie and I'm going to miss her&lt;br /&gt;a lot when she starts going to a private pre-school at&lt;br /&gt;the end of this month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDn7WO5UwI/AAAAAAAAAEo/kdgzz0HMng0/s1600-h/DSC00230.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDn7WO5UwI/AAAAAAAAAEo/kdgzz0HMng0/s320/DSC00230.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355034963709874946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Annnnddd... one of my favorite people in the world!&lt;br /&gt;Here is Melia, she met a new friend, Dawson (I think)&lt;br /&gt;when we went out to dinner at Home Grown right down&lt;br /&gt;the street where AJ and Julie live.  Personally I think she&lt;br /&gt;is too cute for words.  It's amazing how fast she is growing.&lt;br /&gt;She now crawls like a speeding bullet and can stand up as&lt;br /&gt;long as she holds on to something.  She also plops down fairly&lt;br /&gt;gracefully, something she most definitely got from Julie's side;&lt;br /&gt;if you know any of the Stolldorf children you will know that&lt;br /&gt;we are some of the biggest klutz's around.  Perhaps Melia will&lt;br /&gt;grow up to be a ballerina or something graceful, that would be&lt;br /&gt;something new to come out of our clan.  I don't get to see my&lt;br /&gt;adorable niece nearly enough, as I'm normally in Durham and&lt;br /&gt;between my work and AJ and Julie's work we don't get to have&lt;br /&gt;as many visits and we could wish, but I'll work on getting more&lt;br /&gt;pictures of Melia for all of you doting aunts, uncles, and the&lt;br /&gt;great-grands/aunts/uncles and so on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-907794967852661320?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/907794967852661320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/07/summertime-and-livings-easy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/907794967852661320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/907794967852661320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/07/summertime-and-livings-easy.html' title='Summertime and the living&apos;s easy'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SlDqlr_rPiI/AAAAAAAAAFA/so99qR7Zr7Q/s72-c/DSC00312.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-1967333427919014344</id><published>2009-05-26T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T19:48:35.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NEXT '09</title><content type='html'>This weekend has been without a doubt one of the most amazing weekends ever.  I attended NEXT (formerly known as New Attitude).  This conference is given by Sovereign Grace Ministries and it is mostly for my generation of young people (youngish anyway).   The speakers were Joshua Harris, D.A. Carson, Kevin Deyoung, C.J. Mahaney, and Sinclair Ferguson.  Each of the sermons were amazing, all together they went over Jesus.  First we talked about His preeminence, then who He was, then His life, and finally Sinclair Ferguson (AMAZING!)  did two sessions, one of the resurrection of Jesus, and the other on His return. &lt;br /&gt;     I was struck anew with God's grace and compassion for me.  I am still in awe that He would have chosen to save me.  This weekend just brought me closer to my God, and gave me the full realization that this life is only for HIM.  He is not a means to an end, He IS the end.  I wish that everyone could have come to this conference you all could share in the awesomeness of God and benefited from all of the teachings.  God met me not only in the sermons but in worship.  It seemed as though this weekend God wanted to make my sight clear and see Him more fully.  The first night during worship I suddenly felt His presence and He spoke to me.  Although I gave my life to Jesus several months ago, I was still holding back on some of the sins I had committed in the past.  I didn't even realize that I was doing this, but as God spoke to me I saw that I had foolishly held on to one sin in particular and had convinced myself that I could never be as good of a christian as everyone else because I had committed this act.  Almost as though He was standing right next to me I heard Him say, "Do you really believe that your sin is more powerful than my blood?"  That woke me up!  As though showing me His wounds to prove what He had done, He reminded me that He had made me whole again; His blood covered everything.  How could I have ever doubted Him?  Although I hate my sin, and will never be able to change it, I can only glory in my Redeemer more for what He has done for me.  I feel as though my eyes have been opened yet again.  To realize that this is only the beginning and I will have the rest of my life and eternity to get to know God more makes me tingle with anticipation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Terri and Vance, I don't know how to thank you enough for paying for registration which allowed me to go to this conference.  It was life changing.  I love you so much!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-1967333427919014344?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/1967333427919014344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/05/next-09.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/1967333427919014344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/1967333427919014344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/05/next-09.html' title='NEXT &apos;09'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-7898837639145385587</id><published>2009-05-02T18:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-02T18:25:13.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Ambition</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;    Summer is almost here, I can smell the freedom.  I was trying to decide what this summer would be dedicated to.  After careful consideration, I decided to read as many classics as possible.  I love reading, but feel that there has definitely been a lack in my knowledge of literature.  I've already gotten together my first list of readings which include Poe, Whitman, Frost, Plath, Yeats and more, after I catch up on my poets I am going to start on classic novels and just all around good authors and books.  Obviously some of you out there *cough* Terri *cough* and others know a lot more literature than I do and I would greatly appreciate any advice on some good books to read this summer.  I have a feeling it's going to be a fabulous one.  Here's to lovely weather, a good book in hand.  cheers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-7898837639145385587?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/7898837639145385587/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/05/summer-ambition.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/7898837639145385587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/7898837639145385587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/05/summer-ambition.html' title='Summer Ambition'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-4050926256622390290</id><published>2009-04-27T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T17:10:30.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Persephone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;So, for those of you interested, here are more&lt;br /&gt;pictures of my little kitten, Persephone.&lt;br /&gt;I've been wanting a pet ever since I was 3.&lt;br /&gt;But we all know that mom was allergic, and&lt;br /&gt;dad pretended to be allergic to animals, which&lt;br /&gt;left me only with goldfish, not exactly the most&lt;br /&gt;exciting pet for a little kid.  But now I'm a big kid&lt;br /&gt;and so I decided to get a real pet.  And yes i do&lt;br /&gt;consider cat's a 'real pet'.   I was trying to figure&lt;br /&gt;out how I was going to afford to get a real pet&lt;br /&gt;and had sort of given up expecting not to be able&lt;br /&gt;to get one until at least summer or next year.&lt;br /&gt;But, amazingly I stumbled across a site that had&lt;br /&gt;pics of some adorable kittens and fell in love with&lt;br /&gt;this little one.  When I e-mailed the owner asking&lt;br /&gt;about this cutie pie I got a response back telling me&lt;br /&gt;that they would not charge me anything and just&lt;br /&gt;wanted to find a good home for their kittens but&lt;br /&gt;didn't want any 'crazies'.  Apparently I don't fall&lt;br /&gt;under the category of 'crazy' and so I got my kitten!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHQl1ganI/AAAAAAAAAEA/w8SLa4CnLpo/s1600-h/DSC00179.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHQl1ganI/AAAAAAAAAEA/w8SLa4CnLpo/s320/DSC00179.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329525559399574130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I am biased but I think she's adorable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHQU5ye8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/82SSMOuG6Pw/s1600-h/DSC00165.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHQU5ye8I/AAAAAAAAAD4/82SSMOuG6Pw/s320/DSC00165.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329525554854132674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;She was sprawled out on my futon, having a nice&lt;br /&gt;cat nap.  I think the flash woke her up.  She gave&lt;br /&gt;me a look like 'hey, I'm sleeping here!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHP4vIWXI/AAAAAAAAADw/tdp8A0-6JVU/s1600-h/DSC00185.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHP4vIWXI/AAAAAAAAADw/tdp8A0-6JVU/s320/DSC00185.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329525547293235570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Again, who couldn't love her?  She's extremely playful&lt;br /&gt;and pounces rather than walks.  It's pretty entertaining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHPnDMQZI/AAAAAAAAADo/vq8vkkOm5_o/s1600-h/DSC00168.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHPnDMQZI/AAAAAAAAADo/vq8vkkOm5_o/s320/DSC00168.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329525542545539474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I get the feeling that she's somewhat of a ham.&lt;br /&gt;She's always trying to get me to pay attention to her.&lt;br /&gt;"look what I can do!"  Hmmmm... sound like someone&lt;br /&gt;else we know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-4050926256622390290?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/4050926256622390290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/baby-persephone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/4050926256622390290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/4050926256622390290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/baby-persephone.html' title='Baby Persephone'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfZHQl1ganI/AAAAAAAAAEA/w8SLa4CnLpo/s72-c/DSC00179.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-6458282840114463328</id><published>2009-04-25T07:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T08:06:32.158-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Persephone</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfMmE7SGgNI/AAAAAAAAADg/pR7aDYofjuI/s1600-h/DSC00149.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfMmE7SGgNI/AAAAAAAAADg/pR7aDYofjuI/s320/DSC00149.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328644650184376530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande; font-style: italic;"&gt;PERSEPHONE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;I got a little kitten.  She's 9 weeks&lt;br /&gt;old and absolutely adorable.  Just brought&lt;br /&gt;her home today, and she's getting used to&lt;br /&gt;the apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfMmEt6crlI/AAAAAAAAADY/IlhLOwrxRYg/s1600-h/DSC00153.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfMmEt6crlI/AAAAAAAAADY/IlhLOwrxRYg/s320/DSC00153.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328644646595505746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's just so itty bitty!  LOVE HER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-6458282840114463328?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/6458282840114463328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/persephone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/6458282840114463328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/6458282840114463328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/persephone.html' title='Persephone'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfMmE7SGgNI/AAAAAAAAADg/pR7aDYofjuI/s72-c/DSC00149.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-4336137968907116659</id><published>2009-04-23T08:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T08:55:30.283-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;        So I got my new camera and I started playing around&lt;br /&gt;with it the night I got it.  Here are some of the pics I took.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCNIiNHP6I/AAAAAAAAACw/mL5dqppCnGo/s1600-h/DSC00025.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCNIiNHP6I/AAAAAAAAACw/mL5dqppCnGo/s320/DSC00025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327913536939573154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                        Tofer and Paul working on their music outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCNIcE6O5I/AAAAAAAAACo/mFLEseVZc3M/s1600-h/DSC00027.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCNIcE6O5I/AAAAAAAAACo/mFLEseVZc3M/s320/DSC00027.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327913535294552978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                       Annnnndddddd.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLlg5jn0I/AAAAAAAAACg/aJTCD28DJs0/s1600-h/DSC00028.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLlg5jn0I/AAAAAAAAACg/aJTCD28DJs0/s320/DSC00028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327911835782061890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                            This is how amy and I work on our music.&lt;br /&gt;                                    Be amazing by our impressive guitar hero skills. &lt;br /&gt;                                (my impressively awful talent might I add)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLlErHcxI/AAAAAAAAACY/3Zevg2EGU4Y/s1600-h/DSC00021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLlErHcxI/AAAAAAAAACY/3Zevg2EGU4Y/s320/DSC00021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327911828205302546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                    Me cheezing for the camera while driving.&lt;br /&gt;                                                                    Don't worry we were at a stop light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLkyfCXYI/AAAAAAAAACQ/45Bwo4rRwtI/s1600-h/DSC00018.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLkyfCXYI/AAAAAAAAACQ/45Bwo4rRwtI/s320/DSC00018.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327911823322799490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLkk6yTUI/AAAAAAAAACI/XDNTP-7vh6s/s1600-h/DSC00017.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/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLkk6yTUI/AAAAAAAAACI/XDNTP-7vh6s/s320/DSC00017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327911819681090882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;                                                                                    Vye and I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLkvKN0gI/AAAAAAAAACA/TvprtBXWrtU/s1600-h/DSC00013.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/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCLkvKN0gI/AAAAAAAAACA/TvprtBXWrtU/s320/DSC00013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327911822430163458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                Little Finn.  He always looks so serious.  But he&lt;br /&gt;                                                       loves me.  I get to spend a lot of time with this cute&lt;br /&gt;                                                        little guy.  He's quite energetic and is always bouncing&lt;br /&gt;                                                        around or crawling at the speed of light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCJ0rI1qfI/AAAAAAAAAB4/jO4t5vnTe_Q/s1600-h/DSC00010.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/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCJ0rI1qfI/AAAAAAAAAB4/jO4t5vnTe_Q/s320/DSC00010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327909897205295602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                    The other cute Moran child with his mommy.&lt;br /&gt;                                                            Mickey was being quite crazy when we visited his dad&lt;br /&gt;                                                            and Christine at work.  He finally settled down when&lt;br /&gt;                                                           someone found him a little toy drum set to play with.&lt;br /&gt;                                                            He adores drums and was enamored by then until&lt;br /&gt;                                                            the time they left.  He's gonna be a little rock star.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCJBAdpzNI/AAAAAAAAABw/38m-TfDQjhA/s1600-h/DSC00008.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCJBAdpzNI/AAAAAAAAABw/38m-TfDQjhA/s320/DSC00008.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327909009576545490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                            Me trying to threaten Vye.&lt;br /&gt;                                                                        She's trying not to laugh and she says,&lt;br /&gt;                                                                          "What?  I didn't do it!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-4336137968907116659?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/4336137968907116659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-i-got-my-new-camera-and-i-started.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/4336137968907116659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/4336137968907116659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/so-i-got-my-new-camera-and-i-started.html' title=''/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SfCNIiNHP6I/AAAAAAAAACw/mL5dqppCnGo/s72-c/DSC00025.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-1341212753533705741</id><published>2009-04-07T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T19:34:40.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Birthday Present to Myself</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNPoFkZ2I/AAAAAAAAABE/DElzyIdVDUc/s1600-h/IMG_40551.jpg"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNPoFkZ2I/AAAAAAAAABE/DElzyIdVDUc/s320/IMG_40551.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNPzlHAnI/AAAAAAAAABM/yGrAiefD7_Q/s1600-h/IMG_4049.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNPzlHAnI/AAAAAAAAABM/yGrAiefD7_Q/s320/IMG_4049.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNQDNuiJI/AAAAAAAAABU/VOvslNRIehU/s1600-h/IMG_4051.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNQDNuiJI/AAAAAAAAABU/VOvslNRIehU/s320/IMG_4051.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNQHvkpnI/AAAAAAAAABc/H91cUtBw14g/s1600-h/IMG_4054.JPG"&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNQHvkpnI/AAAAAAAAABc/H91cUtBw14g/s320/IMG_4054.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-1341212753533705741?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/1341212753533705741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-birthday-present-to-myself.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/1341212753533705741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/1341212753533705741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-birthday-present-to-myself.html' title='My Birthday Present to Myself'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/SdwNPoFkZ2I/AAAAAAAAABE/DElzyIdVDUc/s72-c/IMG_40551.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-1219256002722482175</id><published>2009-04-07T04:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T04:28:10.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's official</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; It is official. No matter how long you hold on to denial, reality eventually comes up to bite you. 23, eek. I know it's still young, but I was trying to hold off on this day for as long as possible. Sigh. Well you know what they say, if you can't beat them, join 'em. Hopefully soon I'll be able to get over the disappointment of becoming old and embrace it. I'll get there. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, seeing as I am now officially *gulp* 23, I suppose I will be joining the real world. So I figured I'd do what the big kids do and start a blog. I am getting a new camera for my birthday, my family helped out to fund this. :D I have to say I am truly blessed. Although I was not looking forward to this birthday, I have to say, the presents so far have been fabulous! Dad, Deonni, AJ, Julie and Granny have donated to my camera fund. I realize how amazing it is that I will be able to get something like this considering the economy and I appreciate the generosity of my family so much. You noticed I said 'presents' with an 's'. Yes, I did get another one. While the first gift is rocking my socks off, this second one left me at a loss for words. My sister, Terri, and her husband Vance are being EXTREMELY generous and are going to pay for my registration for NEXT. How amazing is that?!?!? Just this week, not days before Terri informed me of her staggering present, how on earth I was going to be able to go to the retreat. For those of you unaware, NEXT is the new name for what used to be NEW ATTITUDE. Its over memorial day weekend and is a conference for younger individuals (mostly I think). I am VERY excited to be able to go to this if you can't tell. I don't know how to thank my family enough for their generosity and love they have given to me. So if you happen to be one of those *blessed* individuals who are related to me, just know that I love you so much and am really and truly at a loss for words as to express how much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I get my camera this blog should hopefully be much more interesting. I plan on being trigger happy and capturing the wonderful parts of my life on film. Hmm.. I wonder if 'film' is really the correct word seeing as it is digital. Oh well. Do not fret my good people, you are about to be up to date with what is going on in my life. Be prepared to roll your eyes at how many pictures of Melia show up on here, sadly my other precious niece and nephew do not live nearby, but I'll snap up a lot of them whenever I get to see them. Hope you will all enjoy this. And don't be expecting too much. I am not my brilliant sister, and I am sure this will not be nearly as funny and well written as her blog is. Forgive me in advance. You can't say I didn't warn you. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOVE TO ALL!  &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-1219256002722482175?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/1219256002722482175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-official.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/1219256002722482175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/1219256002722482175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-official.html' title='It&apos;s official'/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1515398300855027546.post-7764647849826018588</id><published>2009-03-26T19:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T04:27:38.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Just registered for this blog.  Won't officially start it until my birthday.  Stay tuned.&lt;br /&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1515398300855027546-7764647849826018588?l=allisonicole86.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/feeds/7764647849826018588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/03/ok.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/7764647849826018588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1515398300855027546/posts/default/7764647849826018588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://allisonicole86.blogspot.com/2009/03/ok.html' title=''/><author><name>AllisoNicole</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17833446412735059919</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rke7UaXzu5k/TJD0kt0H1-I/AAAAAAAAAGE/3TmwjhUo230/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
