(1667,1,'2010-11-02 08:05:28','2010-11-02 15:05:28','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB010182.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1651\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB010182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>Svennykins (my blog Svengali, as you probably recall by now) forwarded me an email a week ago.  The e-mail was from his Men\'s Group at church, and they needed volunteers for their Harvest Festival on Halloween Night.  This is a MegaChurch, which means it would be a MegaFestival, which means there would be MegaKids. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny expressed a slight hesitation over the MegaKids part.  I, being the oversized kid that flips for Halloween each year, couldn\'t think of anything better than spending the evening with oversugared MegaKids in costumes.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I also needed an audience for my Spooky Voice Changer that I bought 2 months prior.  I am embarrassed to say just how excited I was over this Spooky Voice Changer, but you can ask any of my colleagues at work if you must know.  I purchased one at a book fair in our building alongside one of the managers who was purchasing one for her 7 year-old son.  Ahem.  I then left the fair to terrorize the office with my new toy.  Until the batteries died. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>With a fresh 9 volt, I was now ready for a younger crowd! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Have no fear, Svenny!  I am a professional!  Leave the kids to me, and you just stand by the car and do your thing.\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny\'s volunteer duties involved showcasing his Fancy Schmancy car at the Harvest Festival\'s car show. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310180.jpg\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1653\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310180-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>3 token male readers, you can pick up your tongues from off the floor now. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Women, Svenny drives a Lamborghini.  Before I met Svenny, I wouldn\'t have known a Lamborghini if it cut me off in traffic, so don\'t feel bad if when you saw the photo, you didn\'t have a clue either. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The very first time I met Svenny, he showed up in a Toyota pick up truck because he googled me and found a blog post of mine on my old blog titled <strong><a href=\"http://latebloomerdiary.blogspot.com/2010/02/baby-you-can-drive-my-car-but-only-if.html\" target=\"_blank\">\"Baby, You Can Drive My Car\" </a> </strong>where I compared cars to men.  In summary, I was more than unkind to Camp Hummer/Ridiculous Vehicles and bestowed my graces upon Camp Honda/Toyota with Camp Nissan in a close 3rd place.  Heh heh heh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So Svenny wisely made his humble first appearance in the Toyota.  But life is never black and white, and neither are blog posts, and even though I might assume that a Lamborghini owner is an obnoxious egomaniac, Svenny breaks the stereotype. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny\'s story is actually quite remarkable.  He is the definition of the American \"success story\".  He paid his own way through college and built his business solo.  He then retired at some ridiculously young age.  37 I think.  You can read more about his story in his new book, <em><strong><a href=\"http://www.amazon.com/Millionaire-Fastlane-Crack-Wealth-Lifetime/dp/0984358102/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1288671824&amp;sr=8-1\" target=\"_blank\">The Millionaire Fastlane.  </a></strong></em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And Svenny\'s dreams all started when he was a 12 year-old boy and saw a Lamborghini for the first time.  Dreams do come true, boys and girls!  Speaking of which...back to the MegaKids...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny picked me up for the Festival and his first question was, \"So what are you?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was perplexed.  \"What am I?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Yeah.  What are you?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Svenny, I am wearing a poodle skirt.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"So what are you?  Who from the 1950s?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>See, Ladies?  Svenny might be a business whiz (and my personal tech guru, thank my lucky stars), but he is still a man and he is still from Mars. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After nearly tearing my rotator cuff trying to get the car door down (Lamborghini, have you ever thought about making an automatic thingamajig for this???  Helloooo????) I turned my Scary Voice Changer on Svenny.  Who couldn\'t hear me because that car is sooooooo LOUD. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>No worries.  The Scary Voice Changer was meant to torment innocent children, not 41 year-old men. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We arrived at the church and in appropriate biblical fashion, the seas parted.  Seemingly, the rest of the universe could care less about almost-torn rotator cuffs, loud engines that muffle Scary Voice Changers, and severely wind-blown hair.  The rest of the universe thinks the Lambo (as serious \"car people\" call it) is the Rock Star of the Car World. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The Pastor of the church apparently thought that the Lambo was the devil itself because after staring at a fairly new Mustang for an ungodly amount of time, he walked right past the Lambo with his nose in the air. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny surmised that the Lambo represents several of the Seven Deadly Sins, including gluttony, vanity, greed, etc.  But I know Svenny, and I am here to clear his name and tell you that he is not a sinner!  Although he did chow down on waaaayyyyy too many packs of Skittles which is pretty gluttonous. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But then again, who <em>doesn\'t </em>make themselves sick on candy on Halloween?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The true stars of the evening were the children, of course.  Children and animals always upstage adults, and I am here to tell you that they also upstage Fancy Schmancy sports cars. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actual observations from the mouths of babes: </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>6 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Father:</strong>  It\'s called a Lamborghini.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>6 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old boy:  </strong>How much does it cost?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  A new one costs 420 thousand.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old:</strong>  No way.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  That\'s what they cost new. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old:</strong>  No way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old\'s friend:</strong>  That\'s cheap! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  Excuse me?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year old\'s friend:</strong>  I thought it cost 2 billion! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>3 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>4 year old-boy:</strong>  It\'s a SuperCar! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>9 year old-boy to his friend:</strong>  Dude!  When I grow up and I\'m rich, I\'m going to buy one!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>The joke that I milked every single time someone asked me if the Lambo was mine:</strong>  Yes, it\'s mine.  After 16 years of working hard as a teacher, I decided to treat myself. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Evidence that Svenny is both a Stereotype-Breaker and a SuperSoftie:</strong>  At car shows, I am told that owners do not let people sit or lean against the cars as it could cause damage/scratching.  Svenny couldn\'t resist the kids, and allowed them to have their pictures taken in the car. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em>Awwwww......</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And last but not least, my favorite costume of the evening...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310179.jpg\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1656\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310179-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>','Day 36:  An Out-of-the-Mouths-of-Babes Kinda Night','','inherit','open','open','','1649-revision-15','','','2010-11-02 08:05:28','2010-11-02 15:05:28','',1649,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1649-revision-15/',0,'revision','',0),(1668,1,'2010-11-02 08:08:49','2010-11-02 15:08:49','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB010182.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1651\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB010182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>Svennykins (my blog Svengali, as you probably recall by now) forwarded me an email a week ago.  The e-mail was from his Men\'s Group at church, and they needed volunteers for their Harvest Festival on Halloween Night.  This is a MegaChurch, which means it would be a MegaFestival, which means there would be MegaKids. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny expressed a slight hesitation over the MegaKids part.  I, being the oversized kid that flips for Halloween each year, couldn\'t think of anything better than spending the evening with oversugared MegaKids in costumes.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I also needed an audience for my Spooky Voice Changer that I bought 2 months prior.  I am embarrassed to say just how excited I was over this Spooky Voice Changer, but you can ask any of my colleagues at work if you must know.  I purchased one at a book fair in our building alongside one of the managers who was purchasing one for her 7 year-old son.  Ahem.  I then left the fair to terrorize the office with my new toy.  Until the batteries died. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>With a fresh 9 volt, I was now ready for a younger crowd! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Have no fear, Svenny!  I am a professional!  Leave the kids to me, and you just stand by the car and do your thing.\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny\'s volunteer duties involved showcasing his Fancy Schmancy car at the Harvest Festival\'s car show. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310180.jpg\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1653\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310180-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>3 token male readers, you can pick up your tongues from off the floor now. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Women, Svenny drives a Lamborghini.  Before I met Svenny, I wouldn\'t have known a Lamborghini if it cut me off in traffic, so don\'t feel bad if when you saw the photo, you didn\'t have a clue either. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The very first time I met Svenny, he showed up in a Toyota pick up truck because he googled me and found a blog post of mine on my old blog titled <strong><a href=\"http://latebloomerdiary.blogspot.com/2010/02/baby-you-can-drive-my-car-but-only-if.html\" target=\"_blank\">\"Baby, You Can Drive My Car\" </a> </strong>where I compared cars to men.  In summary, I was more than unkind to Camp Hummer/Ridiculous Vehicles and bestowed my graces upon Camp Honda/Toyota with Camp Nissan in a close 3rd place.  Heh heh heh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So Svenny wisely made his humble first appearance in the Toyota.  But life is never black and white, and neither are blog posts, and even though I might assume that a Lamborghini owner is an obnoxious egomaniac, Svenny breaks the stereotype. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny\'s story is actually quite remarkable.  He is the definition of the American \"success story\".  He paid his own way through college and built his business solo.  He then retired at some ridiculously young age.  37 I think.  You can read more about his story in his new book, <em><strong><a href=\"http://www.amazon.com/Millionaire-Fastlane-Crack-Wealth-Lifetime/dp/0984358102/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1288671824&amp;sr=8-1\" target=\"_blank\">The Millionaire Fastlane.  </a></strong></em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And Svenny\'s dreams all started when he was a 12 year-old boy and saw a Lamborghini for the first time.  Dreams do come true, boys and girls!  Speaking of which...back to the MegaKids...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny picked me up for the Festival and his first question was, \"So what are you?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was perplexed.  \"What am I?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Yeah.  What are you?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Svenny, I am wearing a poodle skirt.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"So what are you?  Who from the 1950s?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>See, Ladies?  Svenny might be a business whiz (and my personal tech guru, thank my lucky stars), but he is still a man and he is still from Mars. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After nearly tearing my rotator cuff trying to get the car door down (Lamborghini, have you ever thought about making an automatic thingamajig for this???  Helloooo????) I turned my Scary Voice Changer on Svenny.  Who couldn\'t hear me because that car is sooooooo LOUD. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>No worries.  The Scary Voice Changer was meant to torment innocent children, not 41 year-old men. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We arrived at the church and in appropriate biblical fashion, the seas parted.  Seemingly, the rest of the universe could care less about almost-torn rotator cuffs, loud engines that muffle Scary Voice Changers, and severely wind-blown hair.  The rest of the universe thinks the Lambo (as serious \"car people\" call it) is the Rock Star of the Car World. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The Pastor of the church apparently thought that the Lambo was the devil itself because after staring at a fairly new Mustang for an ungodly amount of time, he walked right past the Lambo with his nose in the air. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny surmised that the Lambo represents several of the Seven Deadly Sins, including gluttony, vanity, greed, etc.  But I know Svenny, and I am here to clear his name and tell you that he is not a sinner!  Although he did chow down on waaaayyyyy too many packs of Skittles which is pretty gluttonous. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But then again, who <em>doesn\'t </em>make themselves sick on candy on Halloween?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The true stars of the evening were the children, of course.  Children and animals always upstage adults, and I am here to tell you that they also upstage Fancy Schmancy sports cars. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actual observations from the mouths of babes: </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>6 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Father:</strong>  It\'s called a Lamborghini.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>6 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old boy:  </strong>How much does it cost?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  A new one costs 420 thousand.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old:</strong>  No way.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  That\'s what they cost new. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old:</strong>  No way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old\'s friend:</strong>  That\'s cheap! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  Excuse me?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year old\'s friend:</strong>  I thought it cost 2 billion! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>3 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>4 year old-boy:</strong>  It\'s a SuperCar! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>10 year old-boy to his friend:</strong>  Dude!  When I grow up and I\'m rich, I\'m going to buy one!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>The joke that I milked every single time someone asked me if the Lambo was mine:</strong>  Yes, it\'s mine.  After 16 years of working hard as a teacher, I decided to treat myself. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Evidence that Svenny is both a Stereotype-Breaker and a SuperSoftie:</strong>  At car shows, I am told that owners do not let people sit or lean against the cars as it could cause damage/scratching.  Svenny couldn\'t resist the kids, and allowed them to have their pictures taken in the car. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em>Awwwww......</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And last but not least, my favorite costume of the evening...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310179.jpg\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1656\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310179-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>','Day 36:  An Out-of-the-Mouths-of-Babes Kinda Night','','inherit','open','open','','1649-revision-16','','','2010-11-02 08:08:49','2010-11-02 15:08:49','',1649,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1649-revision-16/',0,'revision','',0),(1669,1,'2010-11-02 08:09:39','2010-11-02 15:09:39','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB010182.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1651\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB010182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>Svennykins (my blog Svengali, as you probably recall by now) forwarded me an email a week ago.  The e-mail was from his Men\'s Group at church, and they needed volunteers for their Harvest Festival on Halloween Night.  This is a MegaChurch, which means it would be a MegaFestival, which means there would be MegaKids. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny expressed a slight hesitation over the MegaKids part.  I, being the oversized kid that flips for Halloween each year, couldn\'t think of anything better than spending the evening with oversugared MegaKids in costumes.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I also needed an audience for my Spooky Voice Changer that I bought 2 months prior.  I am embarrassed to say just how excited I was over this Spooky Voice Changer, but you can ask any of my colleagues at work if you must know.  I purchased one at a book fair in our building alongside one of the managers who was purchasing one for her 7 year-old son.  Ahem.  I then left the fair to terrorize the office with my new toy.  Until the batteries died. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>With a fresh 9 volt, I was now ready for a younger crowd! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Have no fear, Svenny!  I am a professional!  Leave the kids to me, and you just stand by the car and do your thing.\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny\'s volunteer duties involved showcasing his Fancy Schmancy car at the Harvest Festival\'s car show. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310180.jpg\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1653\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310180-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>3 token male readers, you can pick up your tongues from off the floor now. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Women, Svenny drives a Lamborghini.  Before I met Svenny, I wouldn\'t have known a Lamborghini if it cut me off in traffic, so don\'t feel bad if when you saw the photo, you didn\'t have a clue either. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The very first time I met Svenny, he showed up in a Toyota pick up truck because he googled me and found a blog post of mine on my old blog titled <strong><a href=\"http://latebloomerdiary.blogspot.com/2010/02/baby-you-can-drive-my-car-but-only-if.html\" target=\"_blank\">\"Baby, You Can Drive My Car\" </a> </strong>where I compared cars to men.  In summary, I was more than unkind to Camp Hummer/Ridiculous Vehicles and bestowed my graces upon Camp Honda/Toyota with Camp Nissan in a close 3rd place.  Heh heh heh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So Svenny wisely made his humble first appearance in the Toyota.  But life is never black and white, and neither are blog posts, and even though I might assume that a Lamborghini owner is an obnoxious egomaniac, Svenny breaks the stereotype. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny\'s story is actually quite remarkable.  He is the definition of the American \"success story\".  He paid his own way through college and built his business solo.  He then retired at some ridiculously young age.  37 I think.  You can read more about his story in his new book, <em><strong><a href=\"http://www.amazon.com/Millionaire-Fastlane-Crack-Wealth-Lifetime/dp/0984358102/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1288671824&amp;sr=8-1\" target=\"_blank\">The Millionaire Fastlane.  </a></strong></em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And Svenny\'s dreams all started when he was a 12 year-old boy and saw a Lamborghini for the first time.  Dreams do come true, boys and girls!  Speaking of which...back to the MegaKids...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny picked me up for the Festival and his first question was, \"So what are you?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was perplexed.  \"What am I?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Yeah.  What are you?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"Svenny, I am wearing a poodle skirt.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"So what are you?  Who from the 1950s?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>See, Ladies?  Svenny might be a business whiz (and my personal tech guru, thank my lucky stars), but he is still a man and he is still from Mars. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>After nearly tearing my rotator cuff trying to get the car door down (Lamborghini, have you ever thought about making an automatic thingamajig for this???  Helloooo????) I turned my Scary Voice Changer on Svenny.  Who couldn\'t hear me because that car is sooooooo LOUD. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>No worries.  The Scary Voice Changer was meant to torment innocent children, not 41 year-old men. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We arrived at the church and in appropriate biblical fashion, the seas parted.  Seemingly, the rest of the universe could care less about almost-torn rotator cuffs, loud engines that muffle Scary Voice Changers, and severely wind-blown hair.  The rest of the universe thinks the Lambo (as serious \"car people\" call it) is the Rock Star of the Car World. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The Pastor of the church apparently thought that the Lambo was the devil itself because after staring at a fairly new Mustang for an ungodly amount of time, he walked right past the Lambo with his nose in the air. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Svenny surmised that the Lambo represents several of the Seven Deadly Sins, including gluttony, vanity, greed, etc.  But I know Svenny, and I am here to clear his name and tell you that he is not a sinner!  Although he did chow down on waaaayyyyy too many packs of Skittles which is pretty gluttonous. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But then again, who <em>doesn\'t </em>make themselves sick on candy on Halloween?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The true stars of the evening were the children, of course.  Children and animals always upstage adults, and I am here to tell you that they also upstage Fancy Schmancy sports cars. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actual observations from the mouths of babes: </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>6 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Father:</strong>  It\'s called a Lamborghini.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>6 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old boy:  </strong>How much does it cost?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  A new one costs 420 thousand.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old:</strong>  No way.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  That\'s what they cost new. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old:</strong>  No way. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year-old\'s friend:</strong>  That\'s cheap! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Svenny:</strong>  Excuse me?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>13 year old\'s friend:</strong>  I thought it cost 2 billion! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>3 year-old boy:</strong>  It\'s a Transformer!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>4 year old-boy:</strong>  It\'s a SuperCar! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>10 year old-boy to his friend:</strong>  Dude!  When I grow up and I\'m rich, I\'m going to buy one!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>The joke that I milked every single time someone asked me if the Lambo was mine:</strong>  Yes, it\'s mine.  After 16 years of working hard as a teacher, I decided to treat myself. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Evidence that Svenny is both a Stereotype-Breaker and a SuperSoftie:</strong>  At car shows, I am told that owners do not let people sit or lean against the cars as it could cause damage/scratching.  Svenny couldn\'t resist the kids, and allowed them to have their pictures taken in the car. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em>Awwwww......</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And last but not least, my favorite costume of the evening...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310179.jpg\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1656\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PA310179-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>','Day 36:  An Out-of-the-Mouths-of-Babes Kinda Night','','inherit','open','open','','1649-revision-17','','','2010-11-02 08:09:39','2010-11-02 15:09:39','',1649,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1649-revision-17/',0,'revision','',0),(1813,1,'2010-11-10 01:11:03','2010-11-10 08:11:03','<p><a href=\"http://www.grooveshark.com\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-1815\" title=\"grooveshark\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/grooveshark.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"250\" height=\"222\" /></a>Every once and awhile, I know more than a techie. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When this happens, I feel special.  And really smart.  And on Day 42, young and cool. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>On Day 42, I cornered a Mac genius at the Apple Store.  After he listened to my <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/09/day-42-to-rock-my-world-you-need-stamina-baby/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Bose rant</strong></a>, he walked me over and introduced me to my promising new love, Hardon Karmon. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Mac genius (aka Justin) then informed me that iTunes wasn\'t installed on the computer that the Hardon Karmon speakers were hooked up to.  He started to think about what else he could do to demonstrate the speakers. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I suggested <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/09/day-42-to-rock-my-world-you-need-stamina-baby/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Grooveshark.com.</strong></a><strong>  </strong>Justin (estimated age 25) stared blankly at me. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Justin:</strong>  You mean Pandora? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  No.  Grooveshark.  You know?  The site where you can type in any song and it plays in its entirety.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Justin:  </strong>Really?  I\'ve never heard of it! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My part-time neighbor from Seattle (aka \"Neighbor cub\" because he is only 30 and makes me feel like a cougar even though he always asks to \"hang out\" with me and I\'ve never hunted him once which means that <a href=\"http://latebloomerdiary.blogspot.com/2009/09/cougar-mania-makes-me-want-to-yak_20.html\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>I am definitely not a cougar!</strong></a>) looked clueless as well. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Neighbor cub:  </strong>You mean you listen to the whole song?  Do you have to pay for it after? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Guys.  Did I say iLike?  Did I say Pandora?  This is Grooveshark and it\'s going to change your life. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The teacher in me threw in a Grooveshark 101 tutorial. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>This is how it works.  Go to the site.  Type in a song.  Any song.  It will play in its entirety.  For as many times as you like.  I\'m not sure how this is possible.  It\'s like Napster revisited except that you don\'t download.  <em>(I then had a scary visual of the boys in diapers when Napster was big.  Yikes!  Moving right along...)</em>  I\'m not sure how it\'s legal.  I\'m not sure how it works.  But it\'s a dream come true. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Justin pulled up the site.  It was certainly his fantasy come true because apparently now Grooveshark stays afloat with ads.  On this day, the ads displayed Victoria\'s Secret bra models.  Justin immediately shifted from cool genius to fumbling schoolboy.    </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Pick any song that comes to your mind and type it in the box. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I tried to think of a joke about double Ds, but I was a little flustered as well.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong> </strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Justin:  </strong>I can\'t think of anything!!!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>(Well, you are thinking about <em>something</em>, Justin.  But it has nothing to do with music.)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I needed Justin to focus.  I reigned him in with, \"Try \'For Those About to Rock\' by AC/DC.\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Magically, the double Ds disappeared (thank the lord) and up came our song. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Angus Young\'s guitar riff drew the attention of Mac genius #2 who waltzed on over to investigate.  He saluted the speakers and then moved on shaking his head like Angus.  It was a beautiful moment.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Justin and Neighbor cub looked at me with deep respect. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>YES!!!! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>On Day 44, I decided to try Grooveshark out on my new speakers.  A friend at work previously introduced me to Grooveshark at lunch, and I\'ve never taken the time to play around with it at home. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Here is my stream-of-consciousness playlist: </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>1.  <strong>\"For Those About to Rock\" by AC/DC</strong>:  I will milk as much AC/DC out of Grooveshark as I possibly can.  Why?  Because AC/DC refuses to sell their music on iTunes.  And I owned AC/DC albums and cassettes <em>(moving right along!!)</em> back in the day.  I don\'t want to buy your entire recordings again, AC/DC.  I only want to purchase my favorite songs.  But noooooo...you greedy bastards won\'t let me!  So to heck with you!!!  I LOVE YOU, GROOVESHARK!!!!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>2.  <strong>\"Back in Black\" by AC/DC:  </strong>To prove my point.  Bugger off, AC/DC!  Cranked the subwoofer all the way up on this one. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>3.  <strong>\"Same Mistake\" by James Blunt</strong>:  Because I worked myself up in a tizzy over AC/DC and needed to chill.  Just learned this one on the guitar. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>4.  <strong>\"Do It Again\" by Diana Krall</strong>:  Because James Blunt can be so bloody depressing, and I needed sultry romance.  (Speaking of sultry -- 3 token male readers, the Victoria\'s Secret ads are still running.)  Had to turn the subwoofer back down.  Wow!!!!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>5. <strong> \"Smoke a Little Smoke\" by Eric Church:</strong>  Because I was cleaning up the house while the music was playing and put away my <a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/08/day-41-you-need-cowgirl-boots-not-plastic-surgery-let-me-explain/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Cowgirl Boots</strong> </a>which got me thinking of country music.  Giddyup!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>6.  <strong>\"Space\" by Sarah Buxton:</strong>  Because I wanted female representation in my country music.  And I wanted the 3 token male readers to listen up and learn.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>7.  <strong>\"Something\" by London Symphony Orchestra:</strong>  ALERT!!!  ALERT!!!!  NO BEATLES ON GROOVESHARK!!!!  THIS VERSION IS WAAYYYYYY TOO DORKY!!!  LISTEN AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!!  ARE THOSE ABBA WANNABEES IN THE CHORUS???  NOOOOOOOO!!!!!  THE BEATLES ARE SACRED!!!!  STOP!!!!!!!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I couldn\'t listen all the way through.  I abruptly paused when the male chorus entered out of respect for George. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>8.  Pavarotti singing <strong>\"Nessun Dorma\" from <em>Turandot</em> by Puccini:</strong>  Because I <em>do </em>love classical music in general and support our symphonies. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>9.  <strong>\"Don\'t Walk Away\" by Electric Light Orchestra:</strong>  Speaking of dorky, I recently discovered that my friend, Brette (aka Brettesy), shares my childhood obsession with Olivia Newton-John and <em>Xanadu.</em>  Side B was my favorite side of the soundtrack album because it featured ELO whom I love almost as much as The Beatles.  Jeff Lynne, you sound AMAZING on these speakers!!!! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>10.  <strong>\"Lights\" by Journey:</strong>  Because I wanted to hear another AMAZING voice on my speakers.  Steve Perry, you are a Powerful Portuguese Man and don\'t you ever forget it!  Everyone after you has tried to sing just like you, but you are the original, baby. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I had to turn the speakers down at one point.  Svennykins, if you are reading this, do you think I can blow a fuse with these puppies (like you think I did with the SoundDock), or am I good?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>11. <strong>\"Rock of Ages\" by Def Leppard:  </strong>If I\'m going back in time, then I need to honour my boys from Sheffield, England.  My first concert ever!!  Sound back UP!  Fuse schmuse. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>12. <strong> \"Scene 8\" from <em>The Nutcracker</em> by Tchaikovsky</strong>:  Because it\'s my bedtime and I\'m all wound up from Def Leppard.  I need to calm down and get sleepy.  Berlin Symphony Orchestra, your tempo is much too fast. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>PAUSE.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>13.  <strong>\"Scene 8\" from <em>The Nutcracker </em>by Tchaikovsy:</strong>  Because the Boston Ballet Orchestra\'s conductor wasn\'t on speed like the guy from Berlin. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although now I\'m dancing around my kitchen thinking that I\'m the second coming of Gelsey Kirkland, which I am not.  Women if you have never seen Gelsey, <a href=\"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3z3vvmuCuDg&amp;feature=related\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>watch this and weep</strong></a>.  Sigh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It\'s 10:35.  Didn\'t I say a couple of weeks ago that I would stop blogging this late? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now it\'s your turn.  Create your own eclectic playlist on Grooveshark.com and then share it with us in the comments section below.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 44:  Get Your Groove On','','publish','open','open','','day-44-get-your-groove-on','','http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/09/day-42-to-rock-my-world-you-need-stamina-baby/\nhttp://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/09/day-42-to-rock-my-world-you-need-stamina-baby/','2010-11-09 23:19:15','2010-11-10 06:19:15','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=1813',0,'post','',6),(1671,1,'2010-11-03 01:11:38','2010-11-03 08:11:38','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/10/28/day-30-jack-o-lantern-disasters/\" target=\"_blank\">pumpkin carving kit</a></strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Stop and Smell the Lavender ','','publish','open','open','','day-37-stopandsmellthelavender','','\nhttp://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/10/28/day-30-jack-o-lantern-disasters/','2010-11-02 22:36:04','2010-11-03 05:36:04','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=1671',0,'post','',10),(1672,1,'2010-11-02 21:31:49','2010-11-03 04:31:49','<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Stopping and smelling the roses EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em></em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day, and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>???</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>To be honest, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the lavender. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub.  It’s an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  </p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision','','','2010-11-02 21:31:49','2010-11-03 04:31:49','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(1673,1,'2010-11-02 22:00:54','2010-11-03 05:00:54','','rubberduckie','','inherit','open','open','','rubberduckie','','','2010-11-02 22:00:54','2010-11-03 05:00:54','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1674,1,'2010-11-02 21:32:25','2010-11-03 04:32:25','<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Stopping and smelling the roses EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em></em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day, and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>???</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To be honest, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the lavender. </span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub.  It’s an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  </p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-2','','','2010-11-02 21:32:25','2010-11-03 04:32:25','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(1677,1,'2010-11-02 22:05:09','2010-11-03 05:05:09','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next one and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>???</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>To be honest, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the lavender. </span></strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub.  It’s an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  </p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-5','','','2010-11-02 22:05:09','2010-11-03 05:05:09','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(1675,1,'2010-11-02 22:01:35','2010-11-03 05:01:35','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Stopping and smelling the roses EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day, and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>???</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To be honest, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the lavender. </span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub.  It’s an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  </p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-3','','','2010-11-02 22:01:35','2010-11-03 05:01:35','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(1676,1,'2010-11-02 22:01:45','2010-11-03 05:01:45','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Stopping and smelling the roses EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day, and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>???</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>To be honest, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the lavender. </span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub.  It’s an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  </p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-4','','','2010-11-02 22:01:45','2010-11-03 05:01:45','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(1678,1,'2010-11-02 22:06:31','2010-11-03 05:06:31','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>???</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>To be honest, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the lavender. </span></strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub.  It’s an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  </p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-6','','','2010-11-02 22:06:31','2010-11-03 05:06:31','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(1679,1,'2010-11-02 22:08:30','2010-11-03 05:08:30','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lav</span></strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub.  It’s an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  </p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-7','','','2010-11-02 22:08:30','2010-11-03 05:08:30','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(1680,1,'2010-11-02 22:09:48','2010-11-03 05:09:48','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-8','','','2010-11-02 22:09:48','2010-11-03 05:09:48','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(1681,1,'2010-11-02 22:10:59','2010-11-03 05:10:59','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-9','','','2010-11-02 22:10:59','2010-11-03 05:10:59','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(1682,1,'2010-11-02 22:11:04','2010-11-03 05:11:04','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-10','','','2010-11-02 22:11:04','2010-11-03 05:11:04','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0),(1683,1,'2010-11-02 22:11:26','2010-11-03 05:11:26','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-11','','','2010-11-02 22:11:26','2010-11-03 05:11:26','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-11/',0,'revision','',0),(1684,1,'2010-11-02 22:11:27','2010-11-03 05:11:27','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-12','','','2010-11-02 22:11:27','2010-11-03 05:11:27','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-12/',0,'revision','',0),(1685,1,'2010-11-02 22:11:28','2010-11-03 05:11:28','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-13','','','2010-11-02 22:11:28','2010-11-03 05:11:28','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-13/',0,'revision','',0),(1686,1,'2010-11-02 22:11:37','2010-11-03 05:11:37','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-14','','','2010-11-02 22:11:37','2010-11-03 05:11:37','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-14/',0,'revision','',0),(1687,1,'2010-11-02 22:12:00','2010-11-03 05:12:00','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-15','','','2010-11-02 22:12:00','2010-11-03 05:12:00','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-15/',0,'revision','',0),(1688,1,'2010-11-02 22:12:11','2010-11-03 05:12:11','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-16','','','2010-11-02 22:12:11','2010-11-03 05:12:11','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-16/',0,'revision','',0),(1689,1,'2010-11-02 22:13:31','2010-11-03 05:13:31','<p>\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"><dl id=\"attachment_1673\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"width: 310px;\"><dt class=\"wp-caption-dt\"><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a></dt><dd class=\"wp-caption-dd\">Rubber Duckie, you\'re the one!</dd></dl><br class=\"spacer_\" /></div>\n</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-17','','','2010-11-02 22:13:31','2010-11-03 05:13:31','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-17/',0,'revision','',0),(1692,1,'2010-11-02 22:15:01','2010-11-03 05:15:01','[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-20','','','2010-11-02 22:15:01','2010-11-03 05:15:01','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-20/',0,'revision','',0),(1691,1,'2010-11-02 22:14:21','2010-11-03 05:14:21','<p>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"><dl id=\"attachment_1673\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"width: 310px;\"><dt class=\"wp-caption-dt\"><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a></dt><dd class=\"wp-caption-dd\">Rubber Duckie, you\'re the one!</dd></dl>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p></div>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>\r\n\r\n</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-19','','','2010-11-02 22:14:21','2010-11-03 05:14:21','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-19/',0,'revision','',0),(1690,1,'2010-11-02 22:13:46','2010-11-03 05:13:46','<p>\r\n<div class=\"mceTemp\"><dl id=\"attachment_1673\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\" style=\"width: 310px;\"><dt class=\"wp-caption-dt\"><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a></dt><dd class=\"wp-caption-dd\">Rubber Duckie, you\'re the one!</dd></dl><br class=\"spacer_\" /></div>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-18','','','2010-11-02 22:13:46','2010-11-03 05:13:46','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-18/',0,'revision','',0),(1693,1,'2010-11-02 22:15:15','2010-11-03 05:15:15','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-21','','','2010-11-02 22:15:15','2010-11-03 05:15:15','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-21/',0,'revision','',0),(1694,1,'2010-11-02 22:16:09','2010-11-03 05:16:09','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-22','','','2010-11-02 22:16:09','2010-11-03 05:16:09','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-22/',0,'revision','',0),(1695,1,'2010-11-02 22:16:36','2010-11-03 05:16:36','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong>pumpkin carving kit</strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-23','','','2010-11-02 22:16:36','2010-11-03 05:16:36','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-23/',0,'revision','',0),(1696,1,'2010-11-02 22:17:42','2010-11-03 05:17:42','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/10/28/day-30-jack-o-lantern-disasters/\" target=\"_blank\">pumpkin carving kit</a></strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-24','','','2010-11-02 22:17:42','2010-11-03 05:17:42','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-24/',0,'revision','',0),(1697,1,'2010-11-02 22:17:49','2010-11-03 05:17:49','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/10/28/day-30-jack-o-lantern-disasters/\" target=\"_blank\">pumpkin carving kit</a></strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-25','','','2010-11-02 22:17:49','2010-11-03 05:17:49','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-25/',0,'revision','',0),(1698,1,'2010-11-02 22:22:57','2010-11-03 05:22:57','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1673\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Rubber Duckie, you&#39;re the one!\"]<a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/2353937055/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1673\" title=\"rubberduckie\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/rubberduckie-300x284.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"284\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I was dangerously close to a meltdown last week. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It started with that stinkin’ <strong><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/10/28/day-30-jack-o-lantern-disasters/\" target=\"_blank\">pumpkin carving kit</a></strong>.  It was past 10 at night, and I just finished writing the blog post from the previous day.  I was exhausted, my back hurt from being at the computer all day, and I still needed to “live” my day’s “adventure” of carving an intricate jack o’ lantern pattern for the first time ever.  Oh, joy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I reminded myself…</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"> </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: medium;\">YES!  Oh, JOY!  THIS is what the blog is about:  Living curiously EVERY day.  Not on the weekends only.  Not a few times a week.  Not every other day.  EVERY day.  It’s an EXPERIMENT. </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong>BECAUSE IF I STAYED ON AUTOPILOT IN MY LIFE, I WOULD HAVE SURELY LOST MY MIND!!! </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Like lecturing to myself at 10:45 at night with slimy pumpkin guts on my hands is the picture of sanity.  ;-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I dragged my tired self into work the next morning struggling over how I could keep this going.  This is everyone’s first question to me when they hear about the blog, right?  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“HOW can you possibly live one curious ‘adventure’ each day AND find the time to blog about it?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Well...sometimes I carve pumpkins at 10:30 at night.  Sometimes I lose sleep.  Sometimes I use my lunch hour at work to start writing a blog post.  Sometimes I stay in on a Friday night to write. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Because living our passions sometimes takes sacrifice.  And I’m willing to make the sacrifice. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Although I <em>really</em> need 8 hours sleep. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Oh, yeah.  And a regular workout schedule. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And while I’m finishing my wish list for Santa, I may as well throw in a regular guitar-playing schedule.  I am no longer in a position to play at an open mic and it <em>kills</em> me.  <em> </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>These are the 3 things that seemed to have slipped through the cracks over the past few weeks. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">COOLEENIE TO THE RESCUE!!!</span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you blessed with a tried-and-true friend who is <em>always</em> there for you?  Who <em>truly </em>understands you (and your neuroses) and <em>accepts </em>you unconditionally?  And <em>always</em> has the solution that is <em>perfect</em> for<em> you</em>? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>That’s Colleen aka Cooleenie.  She’s the one that brilliantly devised my “publication schedule” for this blog:  LIVE the adventure, SLEEP on it, WRITE about it the next day (while living the next adventure) and PUBLISH the next morning.  Logical and one small step towards sanity. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cooleenie calmly listened to my recent road to meltdown story and then crafted a solution.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>??????????????????????</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Whatchyoutalkinbout, Cooleenie?” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“You need a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Cooleenie, I don’t have time for sleep, working out or playing guitar.  I certainly don’t have time for a bubble bath.” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“That’s my idea for one of your 365 days:  The First Bubble Bath of the Season!”</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>“Oh!  I see where you’re going with this.  Calgon, take me far, far away!” </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So this is how my dear, sweet friend tricked me into taking The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath of the Season on Day 37. Although technically it was The 1<sup>st</sup> Mineral Bath of the Season because I’m a mineral bath kind of girl.  You know the kind where you put the salts and herbs in the “tea bag” that floats around your tub and smells like lavender?</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Of course, there was the issue of the technical glitch which wouldn’t let me upload my photos to the blog post scheduled to publish the next morning.  Which delayed the bath until 11.  Yikes. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But NOW I have a plan in place when there are technical glitches!  And Coleenie’s <em>point</em> was that I need to <em>pace</em> myself throughout the week.  <strong><span style=\"color: #cc99ff;\">Because in my life right now, making the time for a simple pleasure such as a bath is truly stepping out of autopilot while stopping to smell the roses.  Or the lavender, in this case.</span></strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am giving you permission to do the same.  In fact, I am going to pretend that I’m Cooleenie right now, and I am telling you that you NEED The 1<sup>st</sup> Bubble Bath/Mineral Bath of the Season.  I’m sure you’re thinking of a thousand excuses why you don’t have time for it tonight.  That’s o.k.  Gently tell your negative self-talk to bugger off and start running the water in the tub. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Just think of it as an EXPERIMENT for your SANITY.  :-)</p>','Day 37:  Cooleenie to the Rescue!','','inherit','open','open','','1671-revision-26','','','2010-11-02 22:22:57','2010-11-03 05:22:57','',1671,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/02/1671-revision-26/',0,'revision','',0),(1700,1,'2010-11-04 01:11:06','2010-11-04 08:11:06','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa passed away.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!   You\'ll be out of there in no time!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring public health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>','Day 38:  I voted.  I\'m a public health nuisance, but I voted.  ','','publish','open','open','','day-38-i-voted-im-a-public-health-nuisance-but-i-voted','','','2010-11-03 19:45:34','2010-11-04 02:45:34','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=1700',0,'post','',4),(1701,1,'2010-11-03 18:23:48','2010-11-04 01:23:48','','vote','','inherit','open','open','','vote','','','2010-11-03 18:23:48','2010-11-04 01:23:48','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1702,1,'2010-11-03 18:23:17','2010-11-04 01:23:17','','Day 38:  I Voted.  And we don\'t need to talk about it on FB.','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision','','','2010-11-03 18:23:17','2010-11-04 01:23:17','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(1703,1,'2010-11-03 18:25:03','2010-11-04 01:25:03','','Day 38:  I Voted.  And we don\'t need to talk about it on FB.','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-2','','','2010-11-03 18:25:03','2010-11-04 01:25:03','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(1704,1,'2010-11-03 18:26:30','2010-11-04 01:26:30','','vote','','inherit','open','open','','vote-2','','','2010-11-03 18:26:30','2010-11-04 01:26:30','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1705,1,'2010-11-03 18:25:11','2010-11-04 01:25:11','','Day 38:  I Voted.  And we don\'t need to talk about it on FB.','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-3','','','2010-11-03 18:25:11','2010-11-04 01:25:11','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(1706,1,'2010-11-03 18:28:00','2010-11-04 01:28:00','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>','Day 38:  I Voted.  (And we don\'t need to talk about it on FB.)','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-4','','','2010-11-03 18:28:00','2010-11-04 01:28:00','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(1707,1,'2010-11-03 18:28:09','2010-11-04 01:28:09','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a></p>','Day 38:  I Voted.  (And we don\'t need to talk about it on FB.)','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-5','','','2010-11-03 18:28:09','2010-11-04 01:28:09','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(1708,1,'2010-11-03 19:36:07','2010-11-04 02:36:07','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa was so sick.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I also infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring social health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 38:  I Voted.  (And we don\'t need to talk about it on FB.)','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-6','','','2010-11-03 19:36:07','2010-11-04 02:36:07','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(1714,1,'2010-11-03 19:42:55','2010-11-04 02:42:55','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa was so sick.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!   You\'ll be out of there in no time!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring public health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>','Day 38:  I voted.  I\'m a public health nuisance, but I voted.  ','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-12','','','2010-11-03 19:42:55','2010-11-04 02:42:55','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-12/',0,'revision','',0),(1709,1,'2010-11-03 19:37:02','2010-11-04 02:37:02','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa was so sick.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I also infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring social health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 38:  I Voted.  (And we don\'t need to talk about it on FB.)','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-7','','','2010-11-03 19:37:02','2010-11-04 02:37:02','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(1710,1,'2010-11-03 19:39:58','2010-11-04 02:39:58','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa was so sick.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!   You\'ll be out \" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I also infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring social health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 38:  I voted.  I\'m a public health nuisance, but I voted.  ','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-8','','','2010-11-03 19:39:58','2010-11-04 02:39:58','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(1711,1,'2010-11-03 19:40:04','2010-11-04 02:40:04','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa was so sick.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!   You\'ll be out of there in no time!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I also infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring social health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 38:  I voted.  I\'m a public health nuisance, but I voted.  ','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-9','','','2010-11-03 19:40:04','2010-11-04 02:40:04','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(1712,1,'2010-11-03 19:40:47','2010-11-04 02:40:47','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa was so sick.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!   You\'ll be out of there in no time!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring social health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 38:  I voted.  I\'m a public health nuisance, but I voted.  ','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-10','','','2010-11-03 19:40:47','2010-11-04 02:40:47','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0),(1713,1,'2010-11-03 19:41:14','2010-11-04 02:41:14','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa was so sick.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em> </p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!   You\'ll be out of there in no time!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring public health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 38:  I voted.  I\'m a public health nuisance, but I voted.  ','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-11','','','2010-11-03 19:41:14','2010-11-04 02:41:14','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-11/',0,'revision','',0),(1715,1,'2010-11-03 19:45:09','2010-11-04 02:45:09','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa passed away.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!   You\'ll be out of there in no time!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring public health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>','Day 38:  I voted.  I\'m a public health nuisance, but I voted.  ','','inherit','open','open','','1700-revision-13','','','2010-11-03 19:45:09','2010-11-04 02:45:09','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-revision-13/',0,'revision','',0),(1716,1,'2010-11-03 19:46:45','2010-11-04 02:46:45','<p><a href=\"http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/3195930419/sizes/m/in/photostream/\" target=\"_blank\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1704\" title=\"vote\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/vote1-199x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"199\" height=\"300\" /></a>I usually vote by early ballot.  I haven\'t visited a polling place in <em>years.  </em>The last time I voted in person, I waited in line for 2 HOURS!  Never again.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This year, the ballot arrived when my grandfather was dying.  And when it was time for me to leave for Florida, in a whirlwind, I chucked the ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I figured that I might be able to sneak through the whole election this year.  You know, a free pass?  Shhhhh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until my friend Dina (aka Dina <em>dah</em>ling<em>) </em>asked me last weekend if I voted.  Uh-oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Well...I kinda sorta threw my ballot away when Papa passed away.  Due to the circumstances, I thought I might skip it this year.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong><em>SKIP VOTING???</em>  What do you mean <em>SKIP VOTING???</em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>Well...um...you know...I\'ve had a lot on my mind.  And I accidentally threw away my ballot. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:  </strong>You can show up on Tuesday then! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>I threw away the Voter\'s Guide.  I\'m not informed! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:   </strong>I will bring you up to speed.  You can make it a blog day! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:  </strong>O.k. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then I woke up sick on Day 38.  Sore throat, swollen glands, fatigue -- your run-of-the-mill welcome to cold &amp; flu season Crud.  And I could just hear Dina inside my head (I\'ve known her for 16 years so we\'re practically sisters):  \"<em>Sick?  </em>What do you mean <em>sick?</em>  Go at 2 o\'clock and no one will be there!   You\'ll be out of there in no time!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This meant that I would need to take a shower and make myself halfway presentable.  But I would do it for my country, dammit! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I hauled my sick cookies down to the polling place and walked right up.  I made my way over to the booth and broke out in a clammy sweat from the effort.  I am sure that I infected countless senior volunteers in the process, but a citizen\'s gotta do what a citizen\'s gotta do, even if it means ingoring public health responsibilities for ten minutes.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I texted Dina <em>dah</em>ling from the parking lot.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me text:</strong>  I\'m a sickie poo but I dragged my hiney out to vote.  R u proud? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling text:</strong>  Yes! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Thanks for the patriotic tough love, Dina <em>dah</em>ling. </p>','Day 38:  I voted.  I\'m a public health nuisance, but I voted.  ','','inherit','open','open','','1700-autosave','','','2010-11-03 19:46:45','2010-11-04 02:46:45','',1700,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/03/1700-autosave/',0,'revision','',0),(1719,1,'2010-11-04 19:45:05','2010-11-05 02:45:05','','Auto Draft','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision','','','2010-11-04 19:45:05','2010-11-05 02:45:05','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1718-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(1720,1,'2010-11-04 21:22:13','2010-11-05 04:22:13','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off.  I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with being ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re artsy fartsy and slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, my mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesay -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved</em> all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read  and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span> Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me</p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision','','','2010-11-04 21:22:13','2010-11-05 04:22:13','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(1721,1,'2010-11-04 21:23:10','2010-11-05 04:23:10','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off.  I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with being ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re artsy fartsy and slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, my mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesay -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved</em> all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read  and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span> Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Magical Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-2','','','2010-11-04 21:23:10','2010-11-05 04:23:10','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(1722,1,'2010-11-04 21:24:09','2010-11-05 04:24:09','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off.  I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with being ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When you\'re artsy fartsy and slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, my mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved</em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read  and responded to blog comments. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Magical Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-3','','','2010-11-04 21:24:09','2010-11-05 04:24:09','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(1725,1,'2010-11-04 21:27:48','2010-11-05 04:27:48','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, my mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved</em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read  and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Magical Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-6','','','2010-11-04 21:27:48','2010-11-05 04:27:48','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(1723,1,'2010-11-04 21:24:53','2010-11-05 04:24:53','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with being ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When you\'re artsy fartsy and slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, my mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved</em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read  and responded to blog comments. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Magical Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-4','','','2010-11-04 21:24:53','2010-11-05 04:24:53','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(1724,1,'2010-11-04 21:25:44','2010-11-05 04:25:44','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When you\'re artsy fartsy and slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, my mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved</em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read  and responded to blog comments. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Magical Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-5','','','2010-11-04 21:25:44','2010-11-05 04:25:44','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(1726,1,'2010-11-04 21:31:03','2010-11-05 04:31:03','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, my mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read  and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Magical Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-7','','','2010-11-04 21:31:03','2010-11-05 04:31:03','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(1727,1,'2010-11-04 21:32:32','2010-11-05 04:32:32','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, my mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends on the phone from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Magical Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-8','','','2010-11-04 21:32:32','2010-11-05 04:32:32','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(1728,1,'2010-11-04 21:36:13','2010-11-05 04:36:13','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends on the phone from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Magical Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-9','','','2010-11-04 21:36:13','2010-11-05 04:36:13','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(1729,1,'2010-11-04 21:42:06','2010-11-05 04:42:06','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends on the phone from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Shooshing Time Miracle Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-10','','','2010-11-04 21:42:06','2010-11-05 04:42:06','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0),(1730,1,'2010-11-04 21:56:57','2010-11-05 04:56:57','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','Actual Location of the Shooshing Time Miracle ','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-82','','','2010-11-04 21:56:57','2010-11-05 04:56:57','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040184.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1731,1,'2010-11-04 21:44:54','2010-11-05 04:44:54','<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends on the phone from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Shooshing Time Miracle Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-11','','','2010-11-04 21:44:54','2010-11-05 04:44:54','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-11/',0,'revision','',0),(1732,1,'2010-11-04 22:06:00','2010-11-05 05:06:00','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-83','','','2010-11-04 22:06:00','2010-11-05 05:06:00','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040179.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1733,1,'2010-11-04 22:07:08','2010-11-05 05:07:08','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','Actual Location of the Shooshing Time Miracle ','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-84','','','2010-11-04 22:07:08','2010-11-05 05:07:08','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040178.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1734,1,'2010-11-04 21:59:01','2010-11-05 04:59:01','<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1730\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Actual Location of the Shooshing Time Miracle \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040184.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1730\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040184-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>\n\n<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends on the phone from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Shooshing Time Miracle Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-12','','','2010-11-04 21:59:01','2010-11-05 04:59:01','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-12/',0,'revision','',0),(1735,1,'2010-11-04 22:09:23','2010-11-05 05:09:23','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1733\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Actual Location of the Shooshing Time Miracle \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040178.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1733\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040178-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>\n\n<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends on the phone from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Shooshing Time Miracle Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-13','','','2010-11-04 22:09:23','2010-11-05 05:09:23','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-13/',0,'revision','',0),(1736,1,'2010-11-04 22:10:03','2010-11-05 05:10:03','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1733\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Actual Location of the Shooshing Time Miracle \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040178.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1733\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040178-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends on the phone from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read and responded to blog comments. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Shooshing Time Miracle Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-revision-14','','','2010-11-04 22:10:03','2010-11-05 05:10:03','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-revision-14/',0,'revision','',0),(1737,1,'2010-11-04 22:11:25','2010-11-05 05:11:25','<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1733\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Actual Location of the Shooshing Time Miracle \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040178.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1733\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040178-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>\n\n<p>I am not good at being sick.  Mainly because I\'m not good at resting.  Mainly because I\'m always diving into projects and hobbies that I\'m passionate about.  And this makes me not good at being sick.  Because you\'re supposed to rest and do nothing when you\'re sick.  You\'re supposed to turn your mind off. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I don\'t think that I have an \"off\" switch.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Normal people don\'t have a problem with relaxing when ill.  They call in sick and then take to the couch for a day of watching really bad TV. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When you\'re slightly neurotic like me, you wake up on your Sick Day and immediately start compiling a To Do list of stuff you\'ve been meaning to get caught up on.  Day 39\'s To Do list included various blog-related tasks as well as looking up the chords for a new song for the guitar.  I even thought I might cook a pot of homemade soup.  From scratch.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sometimes I really wonder about myself.   </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So does my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>As I recited the list to my mother over the phone, it dawned on me that I felt too crummy and fatigued to move, let alone conquer the list.  I expressed my frustration to my mother. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"You\'re just like Nana!  You two always have to be doing something!  You\'re sick.  You need to rest.  Everything else can wait.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>She\'s right, of course.  About the rest and about Nana.  The neurosis is most definitely genetic.  </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #1: </strong></span> My grandmother was in a near-fatal car accident at the age of 76.  She nearly died at the scene, and then again in ICU days later.  The family was called to the hospital at 1 a.m. and told that she didn\'t have much time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>But Portuguese women are a feisty lot, and Nana wasn\'t ready to check out yet.  It took her weeks to recover in a rehabilitation home, and when she was finally released, she returned to working out at the gym 3 days a week.  And volunteering at the Kidney Foundation store.  And singing in the choir.  And running the Portuguese American Club.  And cooking a homemade meal every night.  And...and...and...Her list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>Example #2:</strong></span>  The summer before last, I was in Florida visiting my grandparents with my family.  Papa, Auntie I, mom and I were playing Rummikub at the kitchen table.  87 year-old Nana marches out at 10 p.m. in her bathing suit and heads out to the pool announcing, \"I didn\'t get to exercise today, so I better get some laps in before it gets too late!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am really, really lucky that I take after her.  Wouldn\'t you agree?  :-)</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Anywho, Nana has an Ancient Portuguese Secret for maintaining all this energy.  It\'s called Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Back when we spent summers at the beach house in New York, Nana planned homegrown activities for me and my sister each day:</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Monday -- Nature Class</p>\n\n<p>Tuesday -- Cooking Class (where she talked like Julia Child)</p>\n\n<p>Wednesday -- Health and Beauty Class</p>\n\n<p>Thursday -- Field Trip to the library</p>\n\n<p>Friday -- Arts class</p>\n\n<p>Every day -- Shooshing Time</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Jennie and I <em>loved </em>all the classes.  We could have really done without Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Shooshing Time lasted for 1/2 an hour.  We had the option of napping (NOT!) or quietly reading a book. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Nana naturally opted for the napping.  Nana was \"power napping\' long before the phrase hit the mainstream. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I decided that Shooshing Time needed to be observed on my Sick Day.  I fought it for as long as I could.  I talked to friends on the phone from my prostrate position on the sofa.  I checked out Facebook.  I read and responded to blog comments. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And then at 2:15 the Crud got the best of me, and I took to my bed.  I told myself that if I didn\'t nap, I needed to stay there for at least 30 minutes to truly honor the tradition of Shooshing Time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At 2:45 I was still awake.  Mainly from the coughing.  And distant memories of the To Do list.  But then...a Shooshing Time Miracle!  My off switch worked! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Until 3:30! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I awoke with enough energy to take a shower!  And fold laundry from the day before!  (Which I didn\'t finish the day before because I was sick and pooped out.)  And clean out the fridge!  And write a blog post!  And catch up on some paperwork!  And learn a new song on the guitar!  And...and...and...My list always goes on and on and on. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>Your assignment for the weekend: </strong></span>Observe 30 minutes of Shooshing Time.  And then write to me and tell me about your Shooshing Time Miracle Powers afterwards. </p>','Day 39:  It\'s Shooshing Time','','inherit','open','open','','1717-autosave','','','2010-11-04 22:11:25','2010-11-05 05:11:25','',1717,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1717-autosave/',0,'revision','',0),(1738,1,'2010-11-04 22:23:30','2010-11-05 05:23:30','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-85','','','2010-11-04 22:23:30','2010-11-05 05:23:30','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1739,1,'2010-11-04 19:45:38','2010-11-05 02:45:38','','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-2','','','2010-11-04 19:45:38','2010-11-05 02:45:38','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/04/1718-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(1740,1,'2010-11-05 16:57:08','2010-11-05 23:57:08','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\n\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\n\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\n\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\n\n<p>small onion</p>\n\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\n\n<p>olive oil</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken\".)</em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-3','','','2010-11-05 16:57:08','2010-11-05 23:57:08','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(1741,1,'2010-11-05 17:00:16','2010-11-06 00:00:16','','portugal-flag','','inherit','open','open','','portugal-flag','','','2010-11-05 17:00:16','2010-11-06 00:00:16','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png',0,'attachment','image/png',0),(1742,1,'2010-11-05 17:01:44','2010-11-06 00:01:44','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\n\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\n\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\n\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\n\n<p>small onion</p>\n\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\n\n<p>olive oil</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">Viva Portugal!  </span></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-4','','','2010-11-05 17:01:44','2010-11-06 00:01:44','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(1744,1,'2010-11-05 17:02:59','2010-11-06 00:02:59','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\n\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\n\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\n\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\n\n<p>small onion</p>\n\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\n\n<p>olive oil</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\">Viva Portugal!  </span></span></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-6','','','2010-11-05 17:02:59','2010-11-06 00:02:59','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(1743,1,'2010-11-05 17:01:52','2010-11-06 00:01:52','<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>small onion</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>olive oil</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\">Viva Portugal!  </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-5','','','2010-11-05 17:01:52','2010-11-06 00:01:52','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(1745,1,'2010-11-05 17:04:33','2010-11-06 00:04:33','[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>small onion</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>olive oil</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Viva Portugal!  </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-7','','','2010-11-05 17:04:33','2010-11-06 00:04:33','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(1746,1,'2010-11-05 17:07:38','2010-11-06 00:07:38','<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, Swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portuguese woman\'s mouth: \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>small onion\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>olive oil\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p> \n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>If you try this at home, please write me and let me\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Viva Portugal!  </strong></span></span>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"> </span></span>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>\n\n</p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-8','','','2010-11-05 17:07:38','2010-11-06 00:07:38','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-8/',0,'revision','',0),(1747,1,'2010-11-05 17:07:56','2010-11-06 00:07:56','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, Swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portuguese woman\'s mouth: \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>small onion\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>olive oil\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p> \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you try this at home, please send me your culinary review! \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Viva Portugal!  </strong></span></span>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"> </span></span>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-9','','','2010-11-05 17:07:56','2010-11-06 00:07:56','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-9/',0,'revision','',0),(1749,1,'2010-11-05 17:09:51','2010-11-06 00:09:51','[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>small onion</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>olive oil</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Viva Portugal!  </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-11','','','2010-11-05 17:09:51','2010-11-06 00:09:51','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-11/',0,'revision','',0),(1748,1,'2010-11-05 17:08:49','2010-11-06 00:08:49','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, Swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portuguese woman\'s mouth: \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Rabe (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>small onion\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>olive oil\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p> \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you try this at home, please send me your culinary review! \r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Viva Portugal!  </strong></span></span>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"> </span></span>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" />\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n</p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-10','','','2010-11-05 17:08:49','2010-11-06 00:08:49','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0),(1750,1,'2010-11-05 17:12:46','2010-11-06 00:12:46','<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>\n\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, Swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portuguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\n\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Raab (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\n\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\n\n<p>small onion</p>\n\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\n\n<p>olive oil</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>If you try this at home, please make sure to send me your culinary opinion.  Even better, send me a review!  I\'m sure you\'ll find it worthy of 5 stars! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Viva Portugal!  </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-12','','','2010-11-05 17:12:46','2010-11-06 00:12:46','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-12/',0,'revision','',0),(1751,1,'2010-11-05 17:14:07','2010-11-06 00:14:07','<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>\n\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, Swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portuguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\n\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Raab (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\n\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\n\n<p>small onion</p>\n\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\n\n<p>olive oil</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>If you try this at home, please make sure to send me your culinary opinion.  Even better, send me a review!  I\'m sure you\'ll find it worthy of 5 stars! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Viva Portugal!  </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"> </span></span></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-13','','','2010-11-05 17:14:07','2010-11-06 00:14:07','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-13/',0,'revision','',0),(1752,1,'2010-11-05 17:15:47','2010-11-06 00:15:47','<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>\n\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, Swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portuguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\n\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Raab (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\n\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\n\n<p>small onion</p>\n\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\n\n<p>olive oil</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>If you try this at home, please make sure to send me your culinary opinion.  Even better, send me a review!  I\'m sure you\'ll find it worthy of 5 stars! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: x-large;\">Viva Portugal! </span> </strong></span></span></p>\n\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"> </span></span></p>\n\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-14','','','2010-11-05 17:15:47','2010-11-06 00:15:47','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-14/',0,'revision','',0),(1753,1,'2010-11-05 17:17:16','2010-11-06 00:17:16','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1738\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Popeye didn&#39;t know squat. Auntie I says, &quot;Eat your Escarole!&quot; \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1738\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB040182-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Who loves soup on a blustery Autumn day?  On a cold winter\'s night? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you ready for a DELISH soup recipe? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>THIS, my friends, is an authentic Portuguese Escarole Soup recipe passed down from my Aunt Ida aka Auntie I.  (Auntie I is technically my great Aunt -- my Nana\'s sister.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>When I ate Day 40\'s leftovers at lunch today, Corinnie-cakes and Cooleenie both asked, \"What the heck is escarole?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I am happy to be of service, my friends.  Escarole is...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Actually, I really don\'t know what the heck it is either.  Except a leafy green.  And I flip for leafy greens.  Spinach, kale, Swiss chard, collard greens -- YUM!  Must be a Portuguese thing. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I looked up escarole for us, and it looks like there\'s a whole host of reasons why we need to eat it.  Check it out at <a href=\"http://www.cookthink.com/reference/2667/What_is_escarole\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>Eat Your Escarole, Peeps!  </strong></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Here is Auntie I\'s recipe, dictated straight from the Portuguese woman\'s mouth: </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>Portuguese Escarole Soup</strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Ingredients:</strong></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chicken Broth (buy as much as you want.  I used 3 of the 32 oz cartons of Swanson Low Sodium.) <em> (Late Bloomer used Free Range Chicken Broth from Whole Paycheck.) </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Escarole or Rapini also known as Broccoli Raab (I used two heads of Escarole since I made a huge pot)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Potatoes ( I used 4 of the big russets)</p>\r\n\r\n<p>small onion</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Garlic  <em>(Late Bloomer really digs garlic, so she used 4 cloves when she halved this recipe.  You could use 8 or less for the full recipe.)</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p>olive oil</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Chop up the onion finely as well as the garlic.   Sauté in olive oil until a nice yellow color.  Add the broth, bring to a boil and simmer while you peel and cut up the potatoes.  <em>(Late Bloomer left the skins on!  Don\'t peel away the nutrition and the fiber!)</em>  Cut the potatoes up into smallish cubes.  Put in pot and return to a boil.  Cook until they just about fall apart.  Then take your potato masher and mash them up good.  <em>(In Late Bloomer\'s universe, this translates to \"blend most of the potatoes in the VitaMix and then add to the soup to thicken the broth\".)</em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>While those potatoes are simmering away, wash your greens good to get rid of grit.  Then chop them up.  Pack them down into the pot because they will boil away to nothing.  I used two big heads because I wanted lots of greens.   Cook them for about 10 minutes or so.  Eat and enjoy. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>This took about 1 hour start to finish depending how fast your chop etc. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>If you try this at home, please make sure to send me your culinary opinion.  Even better, send me a review!  I\'m sure you\'ll find it worthy of 5 stars! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: x-large;\">Viva Portugal! </span> </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"> </span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag.png\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-1741\" title=\"portugal-flag\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/portugal-flag-300x199.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"199\" /></a></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 40:  Portuguese Soup for the Soul ','','inherit','open','open','','1718-revision-15','','','2010-11-05 17:17:16','2010-11-06 00:17:16','',1718,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/05/1718-revision-15/',0,'revision','',0),(1754,1,'2010-11-08 01:11:27','2010-11-08 08:11:27','<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1760\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"I Heart Casual Fridays\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050179.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1760\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050179-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Giddyup! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I saw the boots from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She insists that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Sigh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #800080;\">And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! <br class=\"spacer_\" /></span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>I instantly felt very Sheryl Crow-ish.  I could get used to this. </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few minutes later, Kassy and Tiana (aka \"Hollywood\" because she\'s Halle Berry\'s twin) chimed in unison that they loved the boots.  Were they new?  Hollywood wanted to know more about them. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"They\'re that Born brand,\" I sheepishly confessed.  (I pronounced it Bjorn, and Hollywood corrected me.  It\'s just plain Born.  I\'m thinking that I was adding the Scandinavian touch to make them seem more exotic and cool.  Furthermore, I think I might stick with my delusional pronunciation because I like it.)   \"I\'ve never looked at the Born (mispronounced Bjorn by me) shoes before because aren\'t they one of those comfy-dorky brands?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"<em>I </em>have Born shoes!  They are super comfy and cute!  They are my favorite shoes <em>ever!</em>\"  declared Hollywood.  And if Hollywood thinks they\'re fabulous, well... then they are! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Laney echoed Hollywood.  In fact, she was wearing a pair of Borns as we spoke!  And she looks like a Cover Girl model, so it\'s official.  Borns (Bjorns) are <em>not </em>dorky.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The boot mojo continued throughout the day.  After work, I headed to a swanky Girls Night in Snobbsdale hosted by a friend of Kimmeee\'s.  I realized that the freeway exit was the same exit of a former beau who is still a dear friend of mine.  I called to leave a voicemail saying, \"Hi!  I\'m passing through your hood. Thinking of you and hope you are well!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I wasn\'t expecting Former Beau (he asked me not to use his name due to an upcoming comment) to answer his phone at 6:30 p.m. on Friday.  And then beg for a drive-by hug. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Yep.  I am not making this up.   He practically begged me to stop by for a hug.  He promised to keep me for only 60 seconds. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong><span style=\"color: #800080;\">At first, I thought he was joking.  But no, he was serious.  And apparently in dire need of a little tenderness.  My life is so quirky, isn\'t it?  :-) </span></strong></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So since a man has never pleaded for a drive-by hug before, I thought, \"Why not?\"  Isn\'t this a year of curious adventures?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I arrived at his house and told him I needed more than 60 seconds because nature called.  He took one look at my boots and said (and here is why he wanted to remain anonymous), \"Those are great boots!  I would do you in those boots.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Okaaayyyyy...I\'m not going to have ex-sex anytime soon, but I\'ll take the compliment!  I look like Sheryl Crow and good-looking men want to do me on the spot. <em> I could get used to this!  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Former Beau complimented me yet again with, \"You\'re totally rockin\' the mid-30s.\"  I remind you that I\'m 41, so I was a tad disappointed that he only went down to mid-30s. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Mid-30s meaning 36, or mid-30s meaning 33???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Former Beau:</strong>  <em>(confused)  </em>Mid-30s meaning 34!  The boots, the wavy hair, the white teeth -- yeah, a sexy 34!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hmph. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  O.k.  Whatever.  I\'ll take it.  I need to get to the party. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We hugged. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>And <em>THIS </em>is where the real magic happened, ladies and 3 token gents. </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At the Girls Night, Kimmeee introduced me to her friends, and they naturally inquired as to how we knew each other. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Kimmeee explained that I was her daughers\' first preschool teacher, and we have remained friends ever since.  Her eldest daughter is now 18, so it\'s been a loooonng time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cami looked shocked.  \"But Michelle!  You don\'t look all that much older than 18!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Yes, it\'s true.  That\'s exactly what she said.  This.  Made.  My.  Year. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now the woman was drinking wine, and this was a house party so think \"soft lighting\", but she wasn\'t drunk.  She\'s a lawyer in Real Life.  She\'s a responsible and highly intelligent woman!  And bless her heart, she thinks I\'m barely out of college.  I love her.  She is my new best friend. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It gets better.  The other women (all brainiac lawyers -- Kimmeee probably invited me as the evening\'s comic relief) furiously nodded their heads \"yes\" -- that I must be in my 20s.  I told them about Former Beau\'s \"sexy 34\" comment.  They shook their heads \"NO!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The swankiest and most stylish of the lawyers proclaimed, \"He\'s just jealous!  He doesn\'t want anyone else to have you!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And this is how I became an honorary 20-something on Day 41. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I suspect that the boot mojo played a large part in all of this age hocus pocus.  I really don\'t look like a 20-something.  I\'m telling you -- the boots brought on a different persona! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>GIDDYUP!  Who<em> couldn\'t </em>get used to this???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><span style=\"color: #800080;\"><span style=\"font-size: medium;\"><strong>In conclusion, ladies, I am sharing my fountain of youth secret with you today.  No need to spend money on Botox, expensive skin treatments, or plastic surgery when all you need is a fantastic pair of cowgirl boots. </strong></span></span></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now repeat after me:  \"Are you ready boots?  Start walkin\'!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1761\" align=\"alignnone\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Work it, Girlfriends! \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050180.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1761\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050180-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\r\n\r\n</p>','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','publish','open','open','','day-41-you-need-cowgirl-boots-not-plastic-surgery-let-me-explain','','','2010-11-08 10:54:49','2010-11-08 17:54:49','',0,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/?p=1754',0,'post','',12),(1755,1,'2010-11-07 10:45:04','2010-11-07 17:45:04','<p>come on boots!</p>\n\n<p>who is that hippie chick wiht big sunglasses boots curly hair</p>\n\n<p>tiana and kassy first thing</p>\n\n<p>cooleenie photo</p>\n\n<p>born?  comfie?   everbody has them although i thoguht they were dorky?  clarks?</p>\n\n<p>Jim  hug drive by.  i would do you those boots.  love hair.  Salvador.  rockin mid 30s.  insulted.  36 or 33???  and then white teeth.  he said 34. </p>\n\n<p>magic powers -- girls night.  but michelle you don\'t look much over 18 now.  then 20s.  drinking wine and soft lighting in house party, but I\'ll take it! </p>\n\n<p>Boots made me sassy and years younger.  don\'t need to spend mj$$$ on plastic surgery.  Get boots and work it, girlfriend. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots.  Giddyup! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair last season that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I saw them from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She said that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sigh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Are you ready, boots?  Start walkin\'! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I instanty felt very Sheryl Crow-ish,</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 41:  ','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision','','','2010-11-07 10:45:04','2010-11-07 17:45:04','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision/',0,'revision','',0),(1756,1,'2010-11-07 10:45:29','2010-11-07 17:45:29','<p>come on boots!</p>\r\n\r\n<p>who is that hippie chick wiht big sunglasses boots curly hair</p>\r\n\r\n<p>tiana and kassy first thing</p>\r\n\r\n<p>cooleenie photo</p>\r\n\r\n<p>born?  comfie?   everbody has them although i thoguht they were dorky?  clarks?</p>\r\n\r\n<p>Jim  hug drive by.  i would do you those boots.  love hair.  Salvador.  rockin mid 30s.  insulted.  36 or 33???  and then white teeth.  he said 34. </p>\r\n\r\n<p>magic powers -- girls night.  but michelle you don\'t look much over 18 now.  then 20s.  drinking wine and soft lighting in house party, but I\'ll take it! </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Boots made me sassy and years younger.  don\'t need to spend mj$$$ on plastic surgery.  Get boots and work it, girlfriend. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots.  Giddyup! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair last season that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I saw them from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She said that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Sigh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Are you ready, boots?  Start walkin\'! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I instanty felt very Sheryl Crow-ish and really, really liked it. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 41:  ','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-2','','','2010-11-07 10:45:29','2010-11-07 17:45:29','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-2/',0,'revision','',0),(1759,1,'2010-11-07 17:28:00','2010-11-08 00:28:00','<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Giddyup! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I saw the boots from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She insists that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sigh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I instantly felt very Sheryl Crow-ish.  I could get used to this. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>A few minutes later, Kassy and Tiana (aka Hollywood) chimed in unison that they loved the boots.  Were they new?  Hollywood wanted to know more about them. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"They\'re that Born brand,\" I sheepishly confessed.  (I pronounced it Bjorn, and Hollywood corrected me.  It\'s just plain Born.  I\'m thinking that I was adding the Scandinavian touch to make them seem more exotic and cool.  Furthermore, I think I might stick with my delusional pronunciation because I like it.)   \"I\'ve never looked at the Born (mispronounced Bjorn by me) shoes before because aren\'t they one of those comfy-dorky brands?\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"<em>I </em>have Born shoes!  They are super comfy and cute!  They are my favorite shoes <em>ever!</em>\"  declared Hollywood.  And if Hollywood thinks they\'re fabulous, well... then they are! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Laney echoed Hollywood.  In fact, she was wearing a pair of Borns (mispronounced Bjorn by me) as we spoke!  And she looks like a Cover Girl model, so it\'s official.  Borns (Bjorns) are <em>not </em>dorky.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The boot mojo continued throughout the day.  After work, I headed to a swanky Girls\' Night in Snobbsdale hosted by a friend of Kimmeee\'s.  I realized that the freeway exit was the same exit of a former beau who is still a dear friend of mine.  I called to leave a voicemail saying, \"Hi!  I\'m passing through your hood. Thinking of you and hope you are well!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wasn\'t expecting Former Beau (he asked me not to use his name due to an upcoming comment) to answer his phone at 6:30 p.m. on Friday and then beg for a drive-by hug. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yep.  I am not making this up.   He practically begged me to stop by for a hug.  He promised to keep me for only 60 seconds. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At first, I thought he was joking.  But, no, he was serious.  And apparently in dire need of a little tenderness.  My life is so quirky, isn\'t it?  :-) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So since a man has never pleaded for a drive-by hug before, I thought, \"Why not?\"  Isn\'t this a year of curious adventures?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I arrived at his house and told him I needed more than 60 seconds because nature called.  He took one look at my boots and said (and here is why he wanted to remain anonymous), \"Those are great boots!  I would do you in those boots.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Okaaayyyyy...I\'m not going to have ex-sex anytime soon, but I\'ll take the compliment!  I look like Sheryl Crow and good-looking men want to do me on the spot. <em> I could get used to this!  </em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p>Former Beau complimented me yet again with, \"You\'re totally rockin\' the mid-30s.\"  I remind you that I\'m 41, so I was a tad disappointed that he only went down to mid-30s. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Mid-30s meaning 36, or mid-30s meaning 33???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Former Beau:</strong>  <em>(confused)  </em>Mid-30s meaning 34!  The boots, the wavy hair, the white teeth -- yeah, a sexy 34!</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Hmph. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  O.k.  Whatever.  I\'ll take it.  I need to get to the party. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>We hugged. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And <em>THIS </em>is where the real magic happened, ladies and 3 token gents. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee introduced me to her friends, and they naturally inquired as to how we knew each other. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee explained that I was her daughers\' first preschool teacher, and we have remained friends ever since.  Her eldest daughter is now 18, so it\'s been a loooonng time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cami looked shocked.  \"But Michelle!  You don\'t look all that much older than 18!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yes, it\'s true.  That\'s exactly what she said.  This.  Made.  My.  Year. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now the woman was drinking wine, and this was a house party so think \"soft lighting\", but she wasn\'t drunk.  She\'s a lawyer in Real Life.  She\'s a responsible and highly intelligent woman!  And bless her heart, she thinks I\'m barely out of college.  I love her.  She is my new best friend. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It gets better.  The other women (all brainiac lawyers -- Kimmeee probably invited me as the evening\'s comic relief) furiously nodded their heads \"yes\" -- that I must be in my 20s.  I told them about Former Beau\'s \"sexy 34\" comment.  They shook their heads \"NO!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The swankiest and most stylish of the lawyers proclaimed, \"He\'s just jealous!  He doesn\'t want anyone else to have you!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And this is how I became an honorary 20-something on Day 41. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I suspect that the boot mojo played a large part in all of this age hocus pocus.  I really don\'t look like a 20-something.  I\'m telling you -- the boots brought on a different persona! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>GIDDYUP!  Who<em> couldn\'t </em>get used to this???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>In conclusion, ladies, I am sharing my fountain of youth secret with you today.  No need to spend money on Botox, expensive skin treatments, or plastic surgery when all you need is a fantastic pair of cowgirl boots. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now repeat after me:  \"Are you ready boots?  Start walkin\'!\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Work it, girlfriends!  <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-5','','','2010-11-07 17:28:00','2010-11-08 00:28:00','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-5/',0,'revision','',0),(1757,1,'2010-11-07 17:15:39','2010-11-08 00:15:39','<p>magic powers -- girls night.  but michelle you don\'t look much over 18 now.  then 20s.  drinking wine and soft lighting in house party, but I\'ll take it! </p>\n\n<p>Boots made me sassy and years younger.  don\'t need to spend mj$$$ on plastic surgery.  Get boots and work it, girlfriend. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots.  Giddyup! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair last season that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I saw them from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She said that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sigh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I instanty felt very Sheryl Crow-ish.  I could get used to this. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>A few minutes later, Kassy and Tiana (aka Hollywood) chimed in unison that they loved the boots.  Were they new?  Hollywood wanted to know more about them. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"They\'re that Born brand,\" I sheepishly confessed.  (I pronounced it Bjorn, and Hollywood corrected me.  It\'s just plain Born.  I\'m thinking that I was adding the Scandinavian touch to make them seem more exotic and cool.  I think I might stick with my delusional pronounciation because I like it.   \"I\'ve never looked at the Born (mispronounced Bjorn by me) shoes before because aren\'t they one of those comfy-dorky brands?\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"<em>I </em>have Born shoes!  They are super comfy and cute!  They are my favorite shoes <em>ever!</em>\"  declared Hollywood.  And if Hollywood thinks they\'re fabulous, well... then they are! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Laney echoed Hollywood.  In fact, she was wearing a pair of Borns (misprounounced Bjorn by me) as we spoke!  And she looks like a Cover Girl model, so it\'s official.  Borns (Bjorns) are <em>not </em>dorky.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The boot mojo continued throughout the day.  After work, I headed to a swanky Girls\' Night in Snobbsdale hosted by a friend of Kimmeee\'s.  I realized that the exit was the same exit of a former beau who is still a dear friend of mine.  I called to leave a voicemail saying, \"Hi!  I\'m passing through your hood. Thinking of you and hope you are well!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wasn\'t expecting Former Beau (he asked me not to use his name due to an upcoming comment) to answer at 6:30 p.m. on Friday and beg for a drive-by hug. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yep.  I am not making this up.   He practically begged me to stop by for a hug.  He promised to keep me only 60 seconds. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At first, I thought he was joking.  But, no, he was serious.  And apparently in dire need of a little tenderness.  My life is so quirky, isn\'t it?  :-) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So since a man has never pleaded for a drive-by hug before, I thought, \"Why not?\"  Isn\'t this a year of curious adventures? </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I arrived at his house and told him I needed more than 60 seconds because nature called.  He took one look at my boots and said (and here is why he wanted to remain anonymous), \"Those are great boots!  I would totally do you in those boots.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Okaaayyyyy...I\'m not going to have ex-sex anytime soon, but I\'ll take the compliment!  I look like Sheryl Crow and good-looking men want to do me on the spot. <em> I could get used to this!  </em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p>Former Beau complimented me yet again with, \"You\'re totally rockin\' the mid-30s.\"  I remind you that I\'m 41, so I was a tad disappointed that he only went to mid-30s. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Mid-30s meaning 36, or mid-30s meaning 33???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Former Beau:</strong>  <em>(confused)  </em>Mid-30s meaning 34!  The boots, the wavy hair, the white teeth -- yeah, a sexy 34!</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Hmph. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  O.k.  Whatever.  I\'ll take it.  I need to get to the party. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>We hugged. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And <em>THIS </em>is where the real magic happened, ladies and 3 token gents. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee introduced me to her friends, and they naturally inquired as to how we knew each other. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee explained that I was her daughers\' first preschool teacher, and we have remained friends ever since.  Her eldest daughter, Lauren, is now 18, so it\'s been a loooonng time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cami looked shocked.  \"But Michelle!  You don\'t look all that much older than 18!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yes, it\'s true.  This.  Made.  My.  Year. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now the woman was drinking wine, and this was a house party so think \"soft lighting\", but she wasn\'t drunk.  She\'s a lawyer in Real Life.  She\'s a responsible and highly intelligent woman!  And bless her heart, she thinks I\'m barely out of college.  I love her.  She is my new best friend. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It gets better.  The other women (all brainiac lawyers -- Kimmeee probably invited me as the evening\'s comic relief) furiously nodded their heads that I must be in my 20s.  I told them about Former Beau\'s \"sexy 34\" comment.  They shook their heads \"NO!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The swankiest and most stylish of the lawyers proclaimed, \"He\'s just jealous!  He doesn\'t want anyone else to have you!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And this is how I became an honorary 20-something on Day 41. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I suspect that the boot mojo played a large part in all of this age hocus pocus.  I really don\'t look like a 20-something.  I\'m telling you -- the boots brought on a different persona!  GIDDYUP!  Who<em> couldn\'t </em>get used to this???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>In conclusion, ladies, I am sharing my fountain of youth secret with you today.  No need to spend money on Botox, expensive skin treatments, or plastic surgery.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now say to yourselves, \"Are you ready boots?  Start walkin\'!\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Work it, girlfriends!  <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-3','','','2010-11-07 17:15:39','2010-11-08 00:15:39','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-3/',0,'revision','',0),(1758,1,'2010-11-07 17:16:02','2010-11-08 00:16:02','<p>magic powers -- girls night.  but michelle you don\'t look much over 18 now.  then 20s.  drinking wine and soft lighting in house party, but I\'ll take it! </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Boots made me sassy and years younger.  don\'t need to spend mj$$$ on plastic surgery.  Get boots and work it, girlfriend. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots.  Giddyup! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair last season that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I saw them from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She said that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Sigh...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I instanty felt very Sheryl Crow-ish.  I could get used to this. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>A few minutes later, Kassy and Tiana (aka Hollywood) chimed in unison that they loved the boots.  Were they new?  Hollywood wanted to know more about them. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"They\'re that Born brand,\" I sheepishly confessed.  (I pronounced it Bjorn, and Hollywood corrected me.  It\'s just plain Born.  I\'m thinking that I was adding the Scandinavian touch to make them seem more exotic and cool.  I think I might stick with my delusional pronounciation because I like it.   \"I\'ve never looked at the Born (mispronounced Bjorn by me) shoes before because aren\'t they one of those comfy-dorky brands?\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>\"<em>I </em>have Born shoes!  They are super comfy and cute!  They are my favorite shoes <em>ever!</em>\"  declared Hollywood.  And if Hollywood thinks they\'re fabulous, well... then they are! </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Laney echoed Hollywood.  In fact, she was wearing a pair of Borns (misprounounced Bjorn by me) as we spoke!  And she looks like a Cover Girl model, so it\'s official.  Borns (Bjorns) are <em>not </em>dorky.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The boot mojo continued throughout the day.  After work, I headed to a swanky Girls\' Night in Snobbsdale hosted by a friend of Kimmeee\'s.  I realized that the exit was the same exit of a former beau who is still a dear friend of mine.  I called to leave a voicemail saying, \"Hi!  I\'m passing through your hood. Thinking of you and hope you are well!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I wasn\'t expecting Former Beau (he asked me not to use his name due to an upcoming comment) to answer at 6:30 p.m. on Friday and beg for a drive-by hug. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Yep.  I am not making this up.   He practically begged me to stop by for a hug.  He promised to keep me only 60 seconds. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>At first, I thought he was joking.  But, no, he was serious.  And apparently in dire need of a little tenderness.  My life is so quirky, isn\'t it?  :-) </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>So since a man has never pleaded for a drive-by hug before, I thought, \"Why not?\"  Isn\'t this a year of curious adventures? </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I arrived at his house and told him I needed more than 60 seconds because nature called.  He took one look at my boots and said (and here is why he wanted to remain anonymous), \"Those are great boots!  I would totally do you in those boots.\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Okaaayyyyy...I\'m not going to have ex-sex anytime soon, but I\'ll take the compliment!  I look like Sheryl Crow and good-looking men want to do me on the spot. <em> I could get used to this!  </em></p>\r\n\r\n<p><em> </em> </p>\r\n\r\n<p>Former Beau complimented me yet again with, \"You\'re totally rockin\' the mid-30s.\"  I remind you that I\'m 41, so I was a tad disappointed that he only went to mid-30s. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Mid-30s meaning 36, or mid-30s meaning 33???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Former Beau:</strong>  <em>(confused)  </em>Mid-30s meaning 34!  The boots, the wavy hair, the white teeth -- yeah, a sexy 34!</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Hmph. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  O.k.  Whatever.  I\'ll take it.  I need to get to the party. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>We hugged. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And <em>THIS </em>is where the real magic happened, ladies and 3 token gents. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Kimmeee introduced me to her friends, and they naturally inquired as to how we knew each other. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Kimmeee explained that I was her daughers\' first preschool teacher, and we have remained friends ever since.  Her eldest daughter, Lauren, is now 18, so it\'s been a loooonng time. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Cami looked shocked.  \"But Michelle!  You don\'t look all that much older than 18!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Yes, it\'s true.  This.  Made.  My.  Year. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now the woman was drinking wine, and this was a house party so think \"soft lighting\", but she wasn\'t drunk.  She\'s a lawyer in Real Life.  She\'s a responsible and highly intelligent woman!  And bless her heart, she thinks I\'m barely out of college.  I love her.  She is my new best friend. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>It gets better.  The other women (all brainiac lawyers -- Kimmeee probably invited me as the evening\'s comic relief) furiously nodded their heads that I must be in my 20s.  I told them about Former Beau\'s \"sexy 34\" comment.  They shook their heads \"NO!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>The swankiest and most stylish of the lawyers proclaimed, \"He\'s just jealous!  He doesn\'t want anyone else to have you!\" </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>And this is how I became an honorary 20-something on Day 41. </p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>I suspect that the boot mojo played a large part in all of this age hocus pocus.  I really don\'t look like a 20-something.  I\'m telling you -- the boots brought on a different persona!  GIDDYUP!  Who<em> couldn\'t </em>get used to this???</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>In conclusion, ladies, I am sharing my fountain of youth secret with you today.  No need to spend money on Botox, expensive skin treatments, or plastic surgery.</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Now repeat after me:  \"Are you ready boots?  Start walkin\'!\"</p>\r\n\r\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\r\n\r\n<p>Work it, girlfriends!  <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-4','','','2010-11-07 17:16:02','2010-11-08 00:16:02','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-4/',0,'revision','',0),(1760,1,'2010-11-07 17:36:15','2010-11-08 00:36:15','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA',' I Heart Casual Fridays','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-86','','','2010-11-07 17:36:15','2010-11-08 00:36:15','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050179.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1761,1,'2010-11-07 17:38:24','2010-11-08 00:38:24','','OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA','Work it, Girlfriends!  ','inherit','open','open','','olympus-digital-camera-87','','','2010-11-07 17:38:24','2010-11-08 00:38:24','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050180.jpg',0,'attachment','image/jpeg',0),(1762,1,'2010-11-07 17:29:10','2010-11-08 00:29:10','<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Giddyup! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I saw the boots from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She insists that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sigh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I instantly felt very Sheryl Crow-ish.  I could get used to this. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>A few minutes later, Kassy and Tiana (aka Hollywood) chimed in unison that they loved the boots.  Were they new?  Hollywood wanted to know more about them. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"They\'re that Born brand,\" I sheepishly confessed.  (I pronounced it Bjorn, and Hollywood corrected me.  It\'s just plain Born.  I\'m thinking that I was adding the Scandinavian touch to make them seem more exotic and cool.  Furthermore, I think I might stick with my delusional pronunciation because I like it.)   \"I\'ve never looked at the Born (mispronounced Bjorn by me) shoes before because aren\'t they one of those comfy-dorky brands?\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"<em>I </em>have Born shoes!  They are super comfy and cute!  They are my favorite shoes <em>ever!</em>\"  declared Hollywood.  And if Hollywood thinks they\'re fabulous, well... then they are! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Laney echoed Hollywood.  In fact, she was wearing a pair of Borns (mispronounced Bjorn by me) as we spoke!  And she looks like a Cover Girl model, so it\'s official.  Borns (Bjorns) are <em>not </em>dorky.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The boot mojo continued throughout the day.  After work, I headed to a swanky Girls\' Night in Snobbsdale hosted by a friend of Kimmeee\'s.  I realized that the freeway exit was the same exit of a former beau who is still a dear friend of mine.  I called to leave a voicemail saying, \"Hi!  I\'m passing through your hood. Thinking of you and hope you are well!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wasn\'t expecting Former Beau (he asked me not to use his name due to an upcoming comment) to answer his phone at 6:30 p.m. on Friday and then beg for a drive-by hug. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yep.  I am not making this up.   He practically begged me to stop by for a hug.  He promised to keep me for only 60 seconds. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At first, I thought he was joking.  But, no, he was serious.  And apparently in dire need of a little tenderness.  My life is so quirky, isn\'t it?  :-) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So since a man has never pleaded for a drive-by hug before, I thought, \"Why not?\"  Isn\'t this a year of curious adventures?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I arrived at his house and told him I needed more than 60 seconds because nature called.  He took one look at my boots and said (and here is why he wanted to remain anonymous), \"Those are great boots!  I would do you in those boots.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Okaaayyyyy...I\'m not going to have ex-sex anytime soon, but I\'ll take the compliment!  I look like Sheryl Crow and good-looking men want to do me on the spot. <em> I could get used to this!  </em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p>Former Beau complimented me yet again with, \"You\'re totally rockin\' the mid-30s.\"  I remind you that I\'m 41, so I was a tad disappointed that he only went down to mid-30s. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Mid-30s meaning 36, or mid-30s meaning 33???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Former Beau:</strong>  <em>(confused)  </em>Mid-30s meaning 34!  The boots, the wavy hair, the white teeth -- yeah, a sexy 34!</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Hmph. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  O.k.  Whatever.  I\'ll take it.  I need to get to the party. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>We hugged. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And <em>THIS </em>is where the real magic happened, ladies and 3 token gents. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee introduced me to her friends, and they naturally inquired as to how we knew each other. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee explained that I was her daughers\' first preschool teacher, and we have remained friends ever since.  Her eldest daughter is now 18, so it\'s been a loooonng time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cami looked shocked.  \"But Michelle!  You don\'t look all that much older than 18!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yes, it\'s true.  That\'s exactly what she said.  This.  Made.  My.  Year. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now the woman was drinking wine, and this was a house party so think \"soft lighting\", but she wasn\'t drunk.  She\'s a lawyer in Real Life.  She\'s a responsible and highly intelligent woman!  And bless her heart, she thinks I\'m barely out of college.  I love her.  She is my new best friend. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It gets better.  The other women (all brainiac lawyers -- Kimmeee probably invited me as the evening\'s comic relief) furiously nodded their heads \"yes\" -- that I must be in my 20s.  I told them about Former Beau\'s \"sexy 34\" comment.  They shook their heads \"NO!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The swankiest and most stylish of the lawyers proclaimed, \"He\'s just jealous!  He doesn\'t want anyone else to have you!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And this is how I became an honorary 20-something on Day 41. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I suspect that the boot mojo played a large part in all of this age hocus pocus.  I really don\'t look like a 20-something.  I\'m telling you -- the boots brought on a different persona! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>GIDDYUP!  Who<em> couldn\'t </em>get used to this???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>In conclusion, ladies, I am sharing my fountain of youth secret with you today.  No need to spend money on Botox, expensive skin treatments, or plastic surgery when all you need is a fantastic pair of cowgirl boots. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now repeat after me:  \"Are you ready boots?  Start walkin\'!\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Work it, girlfriends!  <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-6','','','2010-11-07 17:29:10','2010-11-08 00:29:10','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-6/',0,'revision','',0),(1769,1,'2010-11-07 17:48:33','2010-11-08 00:48:33','','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-13','','','2010-11-07 17:48:33','2010-11-08 00:48:33','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-13/',0,'revision','',0),(1770,1,'2010-11-07 17:49:00','2010-11-08 00:49:00','','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-14','','','2010-11-07 17:49:00','2010-11-08 00:49:00','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-14/',0,'revision','',0),(1763,1,'2010-11-07 17:39:17','2010-11-08 00:39:17','[caption id=\"attachment_1760\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"I Heart Casual Fridays\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050179.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1760\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050179-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Giddyup! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I saw the boots from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She insists that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sigh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I instantly felt very Sheryl Crow-ish.  I could get used to this. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>A few minutes later, Kassy and Tiana (aka Hollywood) chimed in unison that they loved the boots.  Were they new?  Hollywood wanted to know more about them. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"They\'re that Born brand,\" I sheepishly confessed.  (I pronounced it Bjorn, and Hollywood corrected me.  It\'s just plain Born.  I\'m thinking that I was adding the Scandinavian touch to make them seem more exotic and cool.  Furthermore, I think I might stick with my delusional pronunciation because I like it.)   \"I\'ve never looked at the Born (mispronounced Bjorn by me) shoes before because aren\'t they one of those comfy-dorky brands?\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"<em>I </em>have Born shoes!  They are super comfy and cute!  They are my favorite shoes <em>ever!</em>\"  declared Hollywood.  And if Hollywood thinks they\'re fabulous, well... then they are! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Laney echoed Hollywood.  In fact, she was wearing a pair of Borns (mispronounced Bjorn by me) as we spoke!  And she looks like a Cover Girl model, so it\'s official.  Borns (Bjorns) are <em>not </em>dorky.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The boot mojo continued throughout the day.  After work, I headed to a swanky Girls\' Night in Snobbsdale hosted by a friend of Kimmeee\'s.  I realized that the freeway exit was the same exit of a former beau who is still a dear friend of mine.  I called to leave a voicemail saying, \"Hi!  I\'m passing through your hood. Thinking of you and hope you are well!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wasn\'t expecting Former Beau (he asked me not to use his name due to an upcoming comment) to answer his phone at 6:30 p.m. on Friday and then beg for a drive-by hug. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yep.  I am not making this up.   He practically begged me to stop by for a hug.  He promised to keep me for only 60 seconds. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At first, I thought he was joking.  But, no, he was serious.  And apparently in dire need of a little tenderness.  My life is so quirky, isn\'t it?  :-) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So since a man has never pleaded for a drive-by hug before, I thought, \"Why not?\"  Isn\'t this a year of curious adventures?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I arrived at his house and told him I needed more than 60 seconds because nature called.  He took one look at my boots and said (and here is why he wanted to remain anonymous), \"Those are great boots!  I would do you in those boots.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Okaaayyyyy...I\'m not going to have ex-sex anytime soon, but I\'ll take the compliment!  I look like Sheryl Crow and good-looking men want to do me on the spot. <em> I could get used to this!  </em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p>Former Beau complimented me yet again with, \"You\'re totally rockin\' the mid-30s.\"  I remind you that I\'m 41, so I was a tad disappointed that he only went down to mid-30s. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Mid-30s meaning 36, or mid-30s meaning 33???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Former Beau:</strong>  <em>(confused)  </em>Mid-30s meaning 34!  The boots, the wavy hair, the white teeth -- yeah, a sexy 34!</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Hmph. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  O.k.  Whatever.  I\'ll take it.  I need to get to the party. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>We hugged. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And <em>THIS </em>is where the real magic happened, ladies and 3 token gents. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee introduced me to her friends, and they naturally inquired as to how we knew each other. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee explained that I was her daughers\' first preschool teacher, and we have remained friends ever since.  Her eldest daughter is now 18, so it\'s been a loooonng time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cami looked shocked.  \"But Michelle!  You don\'t look all that much older than 18!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yes, it\'s true.  That\'s exactly what she said.  This.  Made.  My.  Year. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now the woman was drinking wine, and this was a house party so think \"soft lighting\", but she wasn\'t drunk.  She\'s a lawyer in Real Life.  She\'s a responsible and highly intelligent woman!  And bless her heart, she thinks I\'m barely out of college.  I love her.  She is my new best friend. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It gets better.  The other women (all brainiac lawyers -- Kimmeee probably invited me as the evening\'s comic relief) furiously nodded their heads \"yes\" -- that I must be in my 20s.  I told them about Former Beau\'s \"sexy 34\" comment.  They shook their heads \"NO!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The swankiest and most stylish of the lawyers proclaimed, \"He\'s just jealous!  He doesn\'t want anyone else to have you!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And this is how I became an honorary 20-something on Day 41. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I suspect that the boot mojo played a large part in all of this age hocus pocus.  I really don\'t look like a 20-something.  I\'m telling you -- the boots brought on a different persona! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>GIDDYUP!  Who<em> couldn\'t </em>get used to this???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>In conclusion, ladies, I am sharing my fountain of youth secret with you today.  No need to spend money on Botox, expensive skin treatments, or plastic surgery when all you need is a fantastic pair of cowgirl boots. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now repeat after me:  \"Are you ready boots?  Start walkin\'!\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1761\" align=\"alignnone\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Work it, Girlfriends! \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050180.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1761\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050180-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-7','','','2010-11-07 17:39:17','2010-11-08 00:39:17','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-7/',0,'revision','',0),(1766,1,'2010-11-07 17:46:29','2010-11-08 00:46:29','<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1760\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"300\" caption=\"I Heart Casual Fridays\"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050179.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1760\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050179-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>\n\n<p>Did you notice that cowgirl boots were \"in\" last winter?  I decided that I needed a pair.  Reminded me of circa early 90s in Houston when I owned a great pair of red and black cowgirl boots.  I loved those boots. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Giddyup! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The only snag from last winter was that I couldn\'t find a pair that I liked that FIT.  Argh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Fast forward to last weekend when Dina <em>dah</em>ling and I ventured to Macy\'s after breakfast at our favorite little haunt.  (<a href=\"http://www.lagrandeorangegrocery.com/\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>LGO</strong></a> for all of my locals peeps.) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I saw the boots from across the crowded room.  I slowly approached, wanting to make a move but afraid that I would be left stranded like last season.  The salesman tempted me with a breathy, \"What size are you?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"6\", I answered, as if under a spell. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The salesman returned with size 6 in hand and promises of Happy Ever After.  \"One of our associates purchased these and started wearing them immediately here at work.  She insists that they are the most comfortable boots she\'s ever worn!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Sigh...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I tried them on and...</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>They fit like a glove.  Which is infinitely more comfortable than a glass slipper. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And when the cowgirl boot fits, then you <em>must</em> wear it sister! <br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Dina <em>dah</em>ling didn\'t quite understand my lust for the boots.  \"Why do you want a pair of cowgirl boots?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Because they\'re sassy.  And they look great with jeans.  Which I <em>live</em> in all winter.  And they\'re comfy.  <em>Especially</em> these. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And I will need them for when I go out to a country bar to try two-stepping for this blog! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Dina <em>dah</em>ling:</strong>  Oh. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wore my cowgirl boots for the first time on day 41 which also happened to be casual Friday at work.  I walked into the building with a little bit of sass in my step, which apparently did not go unnoticed. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>My friend Elaine aka Laney popped her head around the corner and blurted, \"I wondered who that hippie chick was with the great boots and the big wavy hair and the sunglasses.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I instantly felt very Sheryl Crow-ish.  I could get used to this. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>A few minutes later, Kassy and Tiana (aka Hollywood) chimed in unison that they loved the boots.  Were they new?  Hollywood wanted to know more about them. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"They\'re that Born brand,\" I sheepishly confessed.  (I pronounced it Bjorn, and Hollywood corrected me.  It\'s just plain Born.  I\'m thinking that I was adding the Scandinavian touch to make them seem more exotic and cool.  Furthermore, I think I might stick with my delusional pronunciation because I like it.)   \"I\'ve never looked at the Born (mispronounced Bjorn by me) shoes before because aren\'t they one of those comfy-dorky brands?\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\"<em>I </em>have Born shoes!  They are super comfy and cute!  They are my favorite shoes <em>ever!</em>\"  declared Hollywood.  And if Hollywood thinks they\'re fabulous, well... then they are! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Laney echoed Hollywood.  In fact, she was wearing a pair of Borns as we spoke!  And she looks like a Cover Girl model, so it\'s official.  Borns (Bjorns) are <em>not </em>dorky.</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The boot mojo continued throughout the day.  After work, I headed to a swanky Girls\' Night in Snobbsdale hosted by a friend of Kimmeee\'s.  I realized that the freeway exit was the same exit of a former beau who is still a dear friend of mine.  I called to leave a voicemail saying, \"Hi!  I\'m passing through your hood. Thinking of you and hope you are well!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I wasn\'t expecting Former Beau (he asked me not to use his name due to an upcoming comment) to answer his phone at 6:30 p.m. on Friday.  And then beg for a drive-by hug. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yep.  I am not making this up.   He practically begged me to stop by for a hug.  He promised to keep me for only 60 seconds. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>At first, I thought he was joking.  But, no, he was serious.  And apparently in dire need of a little tenderness.  My life is so quirky, isn\'t it?  :-) </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>So since a man has never pleaded for a drive-by hug before, I thought, \"Why not?\"  Isn\'t this a year of curious adventures?\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I arrived at his house and told him I needed more than 60 seconds because nature called.  He took one look at my boots and said (and here is why he wanted to remain anonymous), \"Those are great boots!  I would do you in those boots.\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Okaaayyyyy...I\'m not going to have ex-sex anytime soon, but I\'ll take the compliment!  I look like Sheryl Crow and good-looking men want to do me on the spot. <em> I could get used to this!  </em></p>\n\n<p><em> </em> </p>\n\n<p>Former Beau complimented me yet again with, \"You\'re totally rockin\' the mid-30s.\"  I remind you that I\'m 41, so I was a tad disappointed that he only went down to mid-30s. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  Mid-30s meaning 36, or mid-30s meaning 33???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Former Beau:</strong>  <em>(confused)  </em>Mid-30s meaning 34!  The boots, the wavy hair, the white teeth -- yeah, a sexy 34!</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Hmph. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p><strong>Me:</strong>  O.k.  Whatever.  I\'ll take it.  I need to get to the party. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>We hugged. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And <em>THIS </em>is where the real magic happened, ladies and 3 token gents. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee introduced me to her friends, and they naturally inquired as to how we knew each other. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Kimmeee explained that I was her daughers\' first preschool teacher, and we have remained friends ever since.  Her eldest daughter is now 18, so it\'s been a loooonng time. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Cami looked shocked.  \"But Michelle!  You don\'t look all that much older than 18!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Yes, it\'s true.  That\'s exactly what she said.  This.  Made.  My.  Year. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now the woman was drinking wine, and this was a house party so think \"soft lighting\", but she wasn\'t drunk.  She\'s a lawyer in Real Life.  She\'s a responsible and highly intelligent woman!  And bless her heart, she thinks I\'m barely out of college.  I love her.  She is my new best friend. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>It gets better.  The other women (all brainiac lawyers -- Kimmeee probably invited me as the evening\'s comic relief) furiously nodded their heads \"yes\" -- that I must be in my 20s.  I told them about Former Beau\'s \"sexy 34\" comment.  They shook their heads \"NO!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>The swankiest and most stylish of the lawyers proclaimed, \"He\'s just jealous!  He doesn\'t want anyone else to have you!\" </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>And this is how I became an honorary 20-something on Day 41. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>I suspect that the boot mojo played a large part in all of this age hocus pocus.  I really don\'t look like a 20-something.  I\'m telling you -- the boots brought on a different persona! </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>GIDDYUP!  Who<em> couldn\'t </em>get used to this???</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>In conclusion, ladies, I am sharing my fountain of youth secret with you today.  No need to spend money on Botox, expensive skin treatments, or plastic surgery when all you need is a fantastic pair of cowgirl boots. </p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>Now repeat after me:  \"Are you ready boots?  Start walkin\'!\"</p>\n\n<p><br class=\"spacer_\" /></p>\n\n<p>\n\n[caption id=\"attachment_1761\" align=\"alignnone\" width=\"300\" caption=\"Work it, Girlfriends! \"]<a href=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050180.jpg\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-1761\" title=\"OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA\" src=\"http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/PB050180-300x225.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" /></a>[/caption]\n\n</p>','Day 41:  You need cowgirl boots, not plastic surgery.  Let me explain...','','inherit','open','open','','1754-revision-10','','','2010-11-07 17:46:29','2010-11-08 00:46:29','',1754,'http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/2010/11/07/1754-revision-10/',0,'revision','',0);
