<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693</id><updated>2011-09-01T07:16:26.040-05:00</updated><title type='text'>just one in six billion</title><subtitle type='html'>Just a little about me and my life.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>44</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-5537998633095236502</id><published>2010-10-05T21:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T21:49:44.362-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This is who I am</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I have been spending a lot of time with my mom lately. It is so great to be closer to her and be able to spend time with her. I stayed at my mom and Dan's house for almost 2 weeks... it started as "Hey Cheekie, do you want to come over for the night?" And two weeks later, I am being dropped off at home. Anyway, all this time alone with my mom and the little chats we have got me thinking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Who do I want to be when I grow up? What kind of person do I see myself becoming? Who will I marry? Where will I live? All this stupid crap that I don't want to think about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I hate thinking about those things. #1, because I have no idea what the hell I am doing with my life, and #2 because if I think it, then I feel like I have no choice but to go for it, and when I fail (because I am really good at that) then I will be disappointed in myself. But I get these constant reminders from her, and they go something like this, "You don't need to have your life figured out yet." or "Who cares if you change your mind, everyone does it. And you would rather change your mind now&amp;nbsp;than spend money on something you will change your mind about later." She tells me these things and I feel like I have heard them before... Oh yeah, because I have. But I never let it sink in. I never listened to the people who told that to me because I didn't want them to be right. I wanted to be right, I wanted to never have to change my mind, I wanted to know exactly what I wanted and never have a second thought about it. But lets get real... that never happens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;So as of today, this is who I am and who I want to be. But I don't have to stay this way, I can change and I can change my mind. I reserve the right. And I reserve the right to not care if and/or when you don't like it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I am Diane Muriel Satriano. Yes, that is my middle name, I am finally saying it. I will no longer tell people it is Ariel, which I did for a year or so when I was really young. And I won't say it is Marie, which I always wanted it to be, because I loved my aunty Marie and thought my middle name should be after her. I am Diane Muriel Satriano. For the rest of my life... that is until I hyphenate or ditch the last name when I get married. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I am 21 years old. And just like almost every other 21 year old, I love to drink. And I don't need to hear about how I will go to hell because of it. I love to drink beer, dark beer only. I love whisky, I love rum and I love vodka. You know what I love more than beer and hard liquor? Both of those at a karaoke bar. Yes, I am a bad singer, but I love drunk singing at the bar more than probably anything. Few things make me happier than being drunk and having a large selection of country music, 80s music and 90s music to choose from. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I also love to smoke. More so when I drink. But I love my cigarettes. They are my vice. And I don't care how horrible that is. This is who I am. I have been smoking for years, and if I hid it from you until now, then what right would anyone have to be angry? It's not even that big of a deal. I don't do it around people that are offended, I don't smoke in front of people who hate the smell and I never ever ever smoke around children. And I almost always wait to smoke until I know I won't see anyone the rest of the day that would hate if they smelled it on me. At least I am a considerate smoker.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I likecountry music. GASP! I love it actually. In fact I love it so much, that I have become more shallow as I listen to it. I will only marry a hick now. Where is my redneck romeo? I need a man who will be the man in the relationship. No fairies please! He better call me woman, tell me to make him sandwiches, and&amp;nbsp;say "fetch me a beer." That is what I want. Cowboy hats and boots are necessary. 1969 Dennis Hopper, if I could have you I would die a happy woman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I want to be a chef. I love to cook. I don't do enough of it right now, but I love it. I want to go to school and learn all there is to learn about cooking. Someday, I would love to have my own catering business. Unless of course, I decide to become a housewife for my redneck husband. And in that case, I will always have&amp;nbsp;dinner on the table by 7.&amp;nbsp;Sometimes I wonder if the only reason I want to become a chef is because I truly believe women belong in the kitchen. I actually heard a funny joke the other day (thanks Joey) and it goes like this, Why don't women wear watches? Because there is a clock on the stove! ba dum chhhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Thank you, thank you, funny, I know. But lets not forget how true it is. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;No but seriously, I love to cook, I am so amazed by it. I love how you can take the simplest of ingredients and make something so good. I want to be able to do that someday. People remember those dishes that made their mouths water and still do. They remember them and crave them. They talk about them. And someday I want to be the one to make those dishes for people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Its like this bruschetta that I had once in Denver with my sister. We went to this Italian restaurant that was just amazing. We ordered goat cheese bruschetta for our appetizer and it was so good! We both took and bite and made the same exact yummy sound at the exact same time. I love when we do that. Sometimes I think we are twins at heart. Anyway, it was fabulous. And I will remember that&amp;nbsp;bruschetta and will crave it probably forever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I love tattoos and piercings. A lot. And I plan on getting more.&amp;nbsp;Tattoos that is, I probably won't get any more piercings.&amp;nbsp;I have a few ideas on the tattoos I want, but I won't tell you until&amp;nbsp;I actually plan on getting them. I need a friend who is a tattoo artist. Any takers? I will pay you somehow. I just don't know how yet. Maybe we can work out a deal eh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Oh, here's a good one. I love dressing the way I do. I don't care if I am told I look "extra gay" today. I like wearing jeans, button up shirts, hats, and watches. Deal with it. I am still getting the guys with my awesome cleavage. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I want to move out to California for school next year. I will reapply in January for NVC and hopefully move out there this spring or summer. That is, if I can get my financial stuff in order this time. I am not good with finances. And I know it. I like to spend my money when I get it.&amp;nbsp;I have never been good at saving, I need to work on it. I need to remember that if I save, I am working towards the goal I want more than the clothes, tattoos, and parties. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I want to live in the south someday. I love the dirty south. And I have to make my hubby happy. And since he will be a redneck, I assume he will want to live somewhere in the south. But not in Kentucky hopefully. I still have&amp;nbsp;a bench warrant out for my arrest there...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Also, I am the master at running away. Not like running away from home. I have never done that. I think I would have been too much of a pussy about that. I could never have left the comfort of home as a kid, no matter how mad I got at my dad and his wife or my mom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;But now, I am the master at it. I don't run away and not tell anyone where I am going. But I leave when the the "going gets tough." As a kid I lived with my dad most of my life. I lived with my grama and grampa in elementary school for a little bit when things got hard at home. Then in Jr High, my dad moved to Roch, I wasn't happy about it and I ran to my mom. I lived with her until after High School. Then I ran to my dad in Roch when my mom and I started butting heads. I got sick of living with my dad pretty quick so I left. I lived with a family that took me in. But I never felt settled there. The plan was to get roomies when I moved in with them anyway, so its good I didn't feel settled. I moved out. My roomies sucked. So I moved out again... with a different family. Things were fine for a while. But I am who I am, and if you don't like it that doesn't mean I will change for you. So when things got bad there (job and living situation) I quit my job and moved back to the cities. I stayed with my aunt until I could get a job and pay rent somewhere. I found the best roomies anyone could ever ask for. I loved them and I still miss them actually. But the landlords daughter was a bitch and we all had to leave. So, we all left. I moved in with my mom again. But we are not good roommates. So I live with my grandparents now. And honestly, it is not cool. I love them, they are great. But the living situation is not ideal. I am ready to run away. This is who I am. I run away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;And I push people away. When I feel like I am getting too close, I leave. That is partially why I run away I think. I leave before someone can hurt me. And that's what happens with everyone. No one will not hurt you. Everyone lets you down at some point. And I try to leave before it is a serious let down. It's what I am good at. That is why I never stay in a relationship. It is easier to date for a little bit and have fun. Then give it up before it gets serious. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;I know it isn't ideal, I don't want to be the person that runs away every time but it is easy for now. Someday I will change, but for now, this is easy and it works for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;The reason I am writing this now is because I am getting called out on some things in my life. So I want to clarify to everyone who I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;This is who I am. Diane Muriel Satriano. If you like it great, if not then I suppose it is best not to waste our time. And I am fine with that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-5537998633095236502?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/5537998633095236502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/10/this-is-who-i-am.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5537998633095236502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5537998633095236502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/10/this-is-who-i-am.html' title='This is who I am'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-3415794539931636289</id><published>2010-08-05T15:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T15:37:10.324-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's about being humane vs merciless</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;These two little paragraphs are from an awesome article that I read and that I actually agree with very much. You need to check out the article. I don't care what side of the political spectrum you find yourself residing on. It seems absurd to agree with sb1070 after reading this... especially if you call yourself christian.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;To what extent are our attitudes towards immigrants shaped by materialism? As aliens and&lt;br /&gt;strangers in this world, what is the theological basis for acting as though America were our property&lt;br /&gt;and we can hence deny access to it? Are we being overly possessive of our lifestyle or standard of&lt;br /&gt;living?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Is the fear of running out of limited resources justifiable? How can we say that there is not enough&lt;br /&gt;to go around in America? Are we more concerned with the pursuit of affluence than meeting the&lt;br /&gt;basic human needs of all human beings?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Here is the link for the whole thing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wheaton.edu/CACE/resources/onlinearticles/immigration.pdf" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;http://www.wheaton.edu/CACE/resources/onlinearticles/immigration.pdf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-3415794539931636289?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/3415794539931636289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-about-being-humane-vs-merciless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3415794539931636289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3415794539931636289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/08/its-about-being-humane-vs-merciless.html' title='It&apos;s about being humane vs merciless'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-7567906976721621821</id><published>2010-08-05T12:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T12:47:28.862-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ch-ch-ch-ch-changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;That title is meant to be sung like David Bowie.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;That is also irrelevant. But changes are abrewing... or have brewed I guess. And they seem to be constant.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I moved again! Lets re-cap my living situations... I moved from Roch to the cities. I lived with my aunt for a few weeks until I could live in the House on Wynne. The landlord's daughter went psycho, so we all moved out. I moved in with my mom for a little bit, and now I am back in St. Paul with my favorite Grama and Grampa. All this since March. Holy crap. Lets see if I can manage to move again before I get settled. That would be fun...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I had to quit my job because I don't have a vehicle right now and after moving I couldn't get to my job from St. Paul via bike. So I am really hoping I have another job at Zumiez, I am just waiting to hear back. But I think chances are good (knock on wood). I will have to take the bus until I can afford a car, and let me tell you, I am not looking forward to figuring out the bus line. I took it once now, and it was quite the predicament.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Let me share why. I only had enough money for the bus and forgot to get a transfer, and I was without a phone because I couldn't pay my phone bill either. So I got on the bus that I thought I was supposed to be on, and crossed my fingers. A guy came and sat down next to me... on an empty bus, he chose right next to me. It was a little sketchy, but I rolled with it anyway because what choice did I have? He started talking to me, so I was being polite and making conversation. But I soon realized that the bus I was on, was not the one I wanted. So I asked him what direction we were headed and he let me know that I was on the wrong bus. He told me he would help me find the right bus when we got off the one we were on. So I said thank you, and we kept talking. He then proceeded to tell me that he was 32, had two kids, 13 and 11, and was just out of prison for assault. He spent 4 years in the joint. Awesome. His friend that he was riding the bus with, who was sitting all the way in the back, was also fresh out of prison for the same thing. So I now have two men that I am trusting with my life, and they are fresh out of prison. Sounds like fun. So we got off the bus and started to walk to another stop and the guy (who's name I can't remember) tells me he can't figure out which stop I need. We sat on a bench for a minute while waiting for his friend (the "real life bachelor" as he called himself) to catch up with us. So I checked my wallet to see how many quarters I had, and thankfully I had just enough. The guy must have noticed because he called up his friend and asked for them to come get us and give me a ride home... I agreed to the ride and when he commented on how trusting I am, I told him it was only because I had a taser on me at all times. Obviously, I got home fine because I am blogging about it now. But it was slightly sketchy and pretty darn scary to just trust someone you don't know at all who just got out of prison.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Moral of the story? I have none. I just need to know my bus lines better next time.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Also, I am not going to CA this year, I couldn't get the financials in order for this school year. I can re-apply in January though, and hopefully I will move out there in the Spring. Or just maybe, I will change my mind yet again and want to do something completely different. Let's hope not though. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-7567906976721621821?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/7567906976721621821/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/08/ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7567906976721621821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7567906976721621821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/08/ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.html' title='ch-ch-ch-ch-changes'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-8836122580433516659</id><published>2010-07-14T14:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T14:58:44.708-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THIS JUST IN!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Ok, prepare yourself, this sounds like a joke. But it is not. I was not under the influence of anything when this momentous occasion occurred. I also want to state for the record, that I am not under the influence of anything right now. But I will shortly be partaking in the drinking of a delicious beer. But note, I said one. And one beer alone could not make this up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Today, I woke up at 4am thinking I had to be at work by 5:30, so when biking, I give myself an hour for this all uphill endeavor. Then, I checked my email, and to my surprise, I noticed I didn't have to be in until 7! Alas, more sleep was in my very near future! So, I went back to bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Upon waking up, I was 10 minutes behind schedule, which is not good when I don't give myself any extra time. So, I got my stuff, and sped away on my way to work. I was doing fine with time, but then as if from a dream, I saw it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;A jackalope. Yes, you can read correctly, it does say a jackalope. For the sake of the seriousness behind this blog post, I will even give you a legit definition for this not so mythical creature. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;The jackalope — also called an  antelabbit,  aunt benny, Wyoming  thistled hare or stagbunny — in&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;folklore&amp;nbsp;is  said to be a cross between a&amp;nbsp;jackrabbit&amp;nbsp;and  an&amp;nbsp;antelope&amp;nbsp;(hence  the name),&amp;nbsp;goat,  or&amp;nbsp;deer,  and is usually portrayed as a rabbit with&amp;nbsp;antlers.  Some believe that the tales of jackalopes were inspired by sightings of  rabbits infected with the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shope_papilloma_virus"&gt;Shope  papillomavirus&lt;/a&gt;, which causes the growth of horn- and antler-like&amp;nbsp;tumors&amp;nbsp;in  various places on the rabbit's head and body.&lt;/blockquote&gt;I do not appreciate the word folklore since this is real. But that is the definition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now back to more important things, like my encounter with this here jackalope. I was riding my bike on Radio Dr in Woodbury, it was approximately 6:40am, and I was between Bailey and Lake Rd. When out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little rabbit. Cute right?&lt;br /&gt;No. At first glance, I thought it had a little brown afro. Which would be sweet! But upon slowing down and looking closer, I noticed that is was in fact a tangled mess of horns upon this rabbits head. I watched it while biking by and was simply amazed, but since I was 10 minutes behind schedule, I had to keep hurrying to work. Otherwise, I would have fished out my phone to try to take a picture.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I kid you not. This is no laughing matter. , Jakalopes are legit, and this was the second sighting of a jakalope in my family. My brother saw one when he was about 8 I believe. He was at a wedding shower or something to that effect when he noticed a funny looking bunny. He ran to my mom to tell her, but she didn't believe him. He was very insistent upon the fact that he saw a funny looking bunny. When she got up to look, she noticed that, yes, the bunny was funny looking. Why you may ask? Uh, because it had horns! Soon a bunch of people from the party were gathering around and looking at it and taking pictures. If I wasn't lazy and knew how to scan something and post it, I would post the picture we have of it. But that would also require me to go through a few thousand pictures to find it. It doesn't seem worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that is all for today, it was a very exciting morning. And all I want, is to share this excitement with you! I hope you enjoyed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-8836122580433516659?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/8836122580433516659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/07/this-just-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/8836122580433516659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/8836122580433516659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/07/this-just-in.html' title='THIS JUST IN!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-3040401371914911094</id><published>2010-07-11T18:19:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-11T18:20:29.545-05:00</updated><title type='text'>There are two types of people in the world...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;So I've been getting a lot of crap on my religious views lately. I don't sit in my chair, look down on you, and tell you "you're wrong," so why do you do it to me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;There is no proof of anything, so you really can't tell me I am wrong. How do you know 100% that you are right?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Christians don't bother me in general, there are two types that bother me. And these two types have completely turned me off of the idea of calling myself a christian. They have been at it for years. I have never voiced my true feelings about this religion until recently, these feelings are nothing new, they are just newly voiced.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I want to explain my feelings in a calm manner when I am not frustrated by anyone in particular at the moment when I blog. So, here is to the two kinds of christians that bug me.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;To those of you who are really charismatic and make people feel uncomfortable-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I feel like making everyone around you uncomfortable is no way to go about showing them gods love. I have an example of this in my life. There is someone who likes to push their views on me. They pray in tongues every time I say something that doesn't line up with their religious views. All I can think about when they do that, is that is sounds like they are placing a curse on me. If there is no one around to interpret what you are saying while you speak in "tongues" they don't do it. You make everyone around you without "faith" uncomfortable. And I am sure it isn't necessary.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Then when I told the person that it makes me upset when they do that every time I say something... what did they say? "It wouldn't make you uncomfortable if you were a forerunner for god." REALLY??!? You are a forerunner eh? And god tells you everything you sit here and preach at me? Oh, there are only 12 of you chosen forerunners? That's amazing. Good for you. I am sure you haven't lost your mind. That all sounds really legit. And not only does it sound legit, but it also sounds like you are in no way telling me you are better than me. Awesome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;The second kind, are the hypocrites. Did y'all know the meaning of the word christian? You should if you are going to call yourself one.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;In greek, the word christianos means follower of christ and christianos came from the word christos, which means anointed one. All you christians are calling yourselves anointed christ followers. I hope you aren't giving "christian" a bum rap. That would be unfortunate for the christ followers that are living out their lives as christ does in the bible.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;The reason I wanted to take that rabbit trail for a minute is to emphasize my frustration with hypocritical christians. The christ I remember finding myself mesmerized with, was someone who lived a life of love. He was just, but loving. He reminded people that it was not their place to judge others.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Here is a passage from Luke that I took from biblegateway.com, this is from The Message. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-10764"&gt;37-38&lt;/sup&gt;"Don't pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. Don't condemn those who are down; that hardness can boomerang. Be easy on people; you'll find life a lot easier. Give away your life; you'll find life given back, but not merely given back—given back with bonus and blessing. Giving, not getting, is the way. Generosity begets generosity." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-10765"&gt;39-40&lt;/sup&gt;He quoted a proverb: "'Can a blind man guide a blind man?' Wouldn't they both end up in the ditch? An apprentice doesn't lecture the master. The point is to be careful who you follow as your teacher. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-10766"&gt;41-42&lt;/sup&gt;"It's easy to see a smudge on your neighbor's face and be oblivious to the ugly sneer on your own. Do you have the nerve to say, 'Let me wash your face for you,' when your own face is distorted by contempt? It's this I-know-better-than-you mentality again, playing a holier-than-thou part instead of just living your own part. Wipe that ugly sneer off your own face and you might be fit to offer a washcloth to your neighbor.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;It's interesting to me how many christians forget this parable. I think they just don't like it and decide to pretend they forgot about it. Because what fun is it to be equals when you can be above someone right?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Part of my hiatus from christianity, is because I see too many non-christians living lives that I can imagine would bring god more glory that the lives of so many "christians" I know.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I believe in love. And when I see more christians living out lives of love instead of lives of judgment on others, I will consider affiliating myself with the religion again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Until then, I will continue to explore different religions by reading books and articles, and talking to people about their views. I don't think I will go to hell for that. But if I do, I guess I am no closer than I am right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-3040401371914911094?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/3040401371914911094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/07/so-ive-been-getting-lot-of-crap-on-my.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3040401371914911094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3040401371914911094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/07/so-ive-been-getting-lot-of-crap-on-my.html' title='There are two types of people in the world...'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-948796042517416946</id><published>2010-07-10T19:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T19:10:33.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exceptional.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Today whilst biking to work at 4:30 in the morning, I was thinking about things I find to be exceptionally beautiful. Then all day, when I would see something or think of something, I just kept adding to my mental list. And this is what I came up with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Birds in pairs. I love how they always manage to find each other and fly together. Its beautiful the picture of commitment that they paint. You don't see commitment much anymore. The divorce rate for first marriages alone is over 40%, and it only goes up with each marriage after that. Its sick how bad people are at getting married. But with birds, you see them fly up and go separate directions, but they always fly towards each other. And that is why I find birds in pairs to be beautiful.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Tomatoes. I think they are beautiful. Why? I don't know.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I love how many different kinds there are. There are so many colors and shapes and sizes, and they are all so closely related. For some reason, I find that to be exceptionally beautiful. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Families. Not all of them. But the rare family that truly loves and cherishes each other. They are together through thick and thin. They show each other their love with their words and actions. This my friends, is a thing of beauty.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;When children call their parent daddy or mommy. For some reason it always makes my heart smile.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Adoption. There is a woman who comes into work on Saturday mornings with her daughter that she adopted. She has given up so much, but it is all so worth it. There are too many kids in the world without families that I think, why wouldn't someone adopt? Even if you are not adopting from another country, just taking in someone who needs a family, is a beautiful thing. When someone can think of another family as their own, and know that they will always be, I find this to be a true picture of love.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;The morning air. It is heavy with dew, but crisp and cool. This is the time of day that everyone needs to experience. Don't sleep in all the time, go outside before the sun rises, and be as quiet and still as the air. Watch the sunrise. You will never regret it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Laughter. Always amazing. I don't care why you are laughing, (as long as it isn't hurting someone else), and as long as it is real. When people laugh, I feel like they are showing, for a brief moment, their transparent side. Making someone laugh feels great, and almost always, a best friend is someone who makes you laugh. Why? Because it feels good and is beautiful! We all need to laugh more.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;That's all for today. There are a million beautiful things in the world. Sometimes we just need to slow down and see them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-948796042517416946?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/948796042517416946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/07/exceptional.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/948796042517416946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/948796042517416946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/07/exceptional.html' title='Exceptional.'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-5454342034552178284</id><published>2010-07-09T01:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T01:32:15.976-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I need someone to interpret my dreams!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I have been having some seriously crazy dreams... They are so strange. I go through phases where I have weird dreams like this though. So I will tell them to you and for those of you who can interpret dreams, let me know what you think. These are in order of the nights I had them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I was about 8 months pregnant and in a relationship with someone that I have shared nothing more than a kiss with. But I really love this person and I don't think they will ever love me back. I've been thinking about them a lot lately and I just want to get over them. But it isn't looking like I will anytime soon.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Then the next night it was that my little Joey was having a kid as well. Crazy considering he is only 16. I would kick him in the crotch if I found out he knocked up some girl. Not cool Joe! Keep it in your pants! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Next I had a dream that I was getting married. It was a legit wedding dream! It fully weirded me out. I was in my dress (which I looked fabulous in!) and about to walk down the aisle. I got nervous and my sister told me not to be nervous because the relationship was perfect and I shouldn't be nervous about sharing my life with this person. But as soon as it was time to walk, I couldn't because I was just too scared.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Ok, this one sucks. I was at a funeral with my new boyfriend who happened to be a guy I met that day at Champs... It was a distant family members funeral and we had to go to another funeral right after this one. I was getting annoyed though because Tyrone kept calling me his white sugar and being all touchy-feely in front of my dad. I was pissed and then my dad made a comment about me dumping the mexican. I told him, "dad, he is obviously black" and he said, "same thing." It was weird. So I got mad and we were going to head out to the next funeral and I told him it was important that I go because it was Kathy Griffin's funeral and I just love her. Then my dad told me it was not her funeral but my grandmas. Then I woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I think I cried from this one considering my grama is one of my favorite people in the world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Ok, that is it so far. I am afraid to go to bed at night out of fear of what dreams I will have. There have been a few other weird ones, but I can't remember them like I did these ones.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;So, if you have any insight, shoot it my way! I am curious what people think. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-5454342034552178284?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/5454342034552178284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-need-someone-to-interpret-my-dreams.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5454342034552178284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5454342034552178284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-need-someone-to-interpret-my-dreams.html' title='I need someone to interpret my dreams!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-4258248999460050769</id><published>2010-06-21T01:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T01:32:21.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Well that was fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;This is a response to my last blog. Let me start this by saying... it was SO fun to write.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I got some sweet reactions to it, which is exactly what I was looking for. So, here, I will address some of the responses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I will start with the negatives. Bad news first right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;For those of you who told me I am going to hell, you know who you are....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I think I said right away in the last post, that I was going to be honest with you and don't judge me. If you don't want to read my blog, don't. I am not forcing you to, you don't have to "follow" me. I don't give a shit if I have no followers. How will that affect me? Hmmm, not at all. So, if you don't like what I have to say, then don't follow my blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I have mentioned to many people how I hate "christians" that are full of themselves, "holier than thou," judgmental ass holes. If you are one of those people that read the blog and told me or someone else that I am a horrible person and I am going to hell, then you are one of those people that turn so many people off of the idea of christianity. You are the reason christians are called hypocrites. At least I say it how it is. Be mad if you want, but keep it to yourself, I get enough shit from people that I don't need it from you too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;And to those of you who were supportive of me, whether it be my ideas, or the fact that you said you were thinking of me and would pray for me, or you had some advice for me, thank you. I appreciate it wholeheartedly. It is so good to know I have a few people in my life that won't judge me, but will instead be patient with me and talk &lt;b&gt;to&lt;/b&gt; me about it instead of &lt;b&gt;at&lt;/b&gt; me. I won't name names, because I didn't ask permission to use these quotes. But I want to share with you what some "good christian people" had to say to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;*whoever reads these, this was a tiny excerpt of a very long insightful message, this people are amazing people and christ followers. They may have agreed with me about some things I said, but they also gave great advice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"Church today is just tough. It is a series of programs. And people, know it or not, are asleep. They are sleep walking through programs that are designed by paid staff. And this paid staff has an inner circle of overly committed lay people who enjoy the power and privileges of knowing the paid staff. And there is a land grab for power that comes in the form of being in charge of things, like the sanctuary, or where the flowers or pizza is bought...etc. So I share your struggle with Church. I also share your trait at community, authenticity and truth. I yearn for it, long for it...in a culture where it no longer exists. It's gone, and may never come back."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;*whoever reads this, this was a tiny excerpt of a very long insightful message, this person is an amazing person and christ follower. They may have agreed with me about some things I said, but they also gave great advice.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thank you for this note, you know who you are. I appreciate your honesty when giving advice. I respect you and your spouse. Each time I have talked with either of you, or your "fricken" cute kids, I have felt an authenticity about you. I know that advice from you all would be from the heart, honest, and out of love. I cried when reading your note because if felt true. Thank you so much for your words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"I just want you to know that I think that what you said in your blog is awesome and I hope that whoever you are talking about/to will read it and hear what you are saying...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;...I can't be so honest because my (spouse) is in ministry and I don't want it to affect them or the minstry. In my heart I know that God is good, and 'ministry' is good. I just am not feeling that people are all that 'good'."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Thank you as well for your kind words. It makes me sad when people can't be totally honest about how they feel. I am not out looking to be people to tell me they agree or feel the same way, but it is nice to hear sometimes. Especially from someone as involved in ministry as you, and with a spouse so involved. I also respect your opinion and I hope you don't stop giving it. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"There is something unique inside of you that this world needs - look for it, and then pursue it without fear. Failure happens to all of us - it's impossible to accomplish anything truly beautiful without it. It's a scary, but essential, part of the process."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;D, you posted this for everyone to see. So I can't keep you secret! Thank you for the encouragement and prayer. I have not known you well, but I always enjoyed seeing you whether it was brief or we got to chat. Thank you for being you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #93c47d; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;I do not judge you because I have struggled with my own insecurities of being scared of failure and of feeling rejected.&amp;nbsp; Sucks.&amp;nbsp; But as my therapist said to me, I will say to you.&amp;nbsp; You need to face them head on.&amp;nbsp; I struggle with that daily.&amp;nbsp; So as I pray for God to help me with that, I will pray for you as well friend.&amp;nbsp; Know that I am always here.&amp;nbsp; I might not agree or like everything you do, but I will always love you.&amp;nbsp; Who am I to judge?&amp;nbsp; The Lord knows I am far from perfect."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;Dear person who wrote this,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #f1c232;"&gt;I love you. I have respected your opinion when I wouldn't listen to anyone else. You have been so kind to me the past couple years, I couldn't thank you enough. I know you are strong in your faith and I respect that as well. I so appreciate your kind words whenever we talk. You have been an encouragement for me and I will always remember and be thankful for that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #f1c232;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Those were some of the responses that I appreciated most. Even the ones I mentioned about me going to hell. Thanks everyone.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #f1c232;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;I want you all to know, I didn't say that I DON'T believe in god and that I won't. I am just questioning some thing right now. I am evaluating my life and the people in it. I am not currently screwing up my life even though I don't make the best decisions each time I have to make one, so I appreciate your advice, but until I really start heading in the direction of a regret filled life, I don't need you breathing down my neck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #f1c232;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black;"&gt;Once again, thanks everyone who reads this and responds to me. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-4258248999460050769?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/4258248999460050769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/06/well-that-was-fun.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4258248999460050769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4258248999460050769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/06/well-that-was-fun.html' title='Well that was fun'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-4360539838090195992</id><published>2010-06-10T01:13:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T12:17:17.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Clarity, noun- clearness or lucidity as to perception or understanding</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;This whole clarity thing... yeah... it is lacking in my life right now. I don't want the rest of my life to be set in stone, and I sure as hell don't want to know exactly what it would look like if it was. But I do want some clarity. I don't think that is asking too much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;So, lets play a game, its called Me Being Honest With You. The sequel is called Don't Judge Me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Here are the rules, I will tell you whats on my mind... maybe more than I should, and you can read it if you want, or not. Then the sequel, which is best played right after Me Being Honest With You, goes like this... don't judge me. It is quite simple, play along if you feel like it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I have pretty much quit going to church, quit praying, quit asking for "godly" advice, etc, because I suck at it. All of it. I don't enjoy church much, I enjoy the friends I have met at church, but not the rest of it. I have a hard time praying, I find it to be a waste of time most days, I feel like I am taking time to, in my head, "talk" to a god that I have no idea if he exists or not, and I could instead be actually talking to someone who will talk back. And I don't ask for "godly" advice, because I have found that in the process, the person giving the advice, is usually quite condescending because what I am doing is that which a heathen would do. So, if your advice is to pray or ask advice of a good christian person, I will take note of your advice, tuck it away in the back of my head, and probably not do it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I tell you that so you won't tell me to pray about what I am about to write.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I feel so confused with my life as it is right now. And here is why-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I feel (as I have for as long as I can remember) that I have no effing idea what the hell I should do with my life. As some of you (depending on how well you know me) are aware, I get an idea in my head, and think that it is the best idea in the world. Like, I should be a teacher... oh wait, kids piss me off too often. I should be a lawyer (I wanted to be a divorce lawyer) because so many people get divorced and I am damn good at fighting my point and the point of whoever else. Oh wait, I hated high school, and barely graduated... no law school would accept me. I should go into Child Protection Services, but what I want to do, is what I see in the movies, not sitting behind a desk pushing papers. I should join the Peace Corps, oh wait, America pisses me off and I want nothing to do with the government here. I should go in the missions field, oh wait, I don't know if I could tell people about a god that I have a hard time believing in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I put so much of myself into these ideas and I want them so bad it hurts. But I am so afraid of failing that I don't bother... just in case I would fail. So, I move on. The problem with this mentality, is that I feel like a failure every time I don't do what I set out to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Part of the reason I am pursuing my Culinary Arts degree is because I know that I love to cook and it is something I think I could actually do. And now, I am so sick of feeling like a failure, that I won't back down on this one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;But all this not backing down isn't helping my current mindset either. I am frustrated and on the verge of quitting again. The school isn't too expensive, but I have myself in a bit of a financial pickle, and I don't know if I can afford the down payment to hold my spot. I need to pay off my credit card, pay the down payment, figure out the vehicle situation, and do this all by the end of July?? How the hell am I supposed to do that when I haven't gotten a paycheck in months?? I just got a job, so that will help big time. But I don't know if it will be soon enough. So I am feeling like I should give up my spot at Napa Valley College and hope for the best next year. That way I can save money and hopefully not have any money issues then. But on the other hand... (I am sorry mom) I don't know if I could live at home or find a place to live cheap enough for it to be worth staying in MN much longer. I want to be out in Cali right now... but that obviously isn't an option yet. This is quite the dilemma in my world.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;You want clarity from me like I want it from you? Then have the balls to ask me about it, or lets just call it what it is, a friendship that is no more. It breaks my heart to say that because I am lover, but I don't need the hurt that you cause me. Lets just make the friendship, or lack of, clear. I am wanting clarity, and if you won't offer that, then get out of my way. This is a new day and I am not letting you affect me anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;This is why I never bothered to get close to people or when I did, I pushed them away before we got close enough for this shit. I had the right idea and was convinced I was wrong for that. But look at me now. Was it so wrong to look out for myself when no one else would? Had I cut ties earlier on, I wouldn't feel like shit now. I am not blaming anyone for trying to help, I am just frustrated with how it turned out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I am searching for clarity within my life, future, relationships and everything else. Don't get in my way. You can love me or not. But lets not play games anymore. I quit pretending when I was five.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-4360539838090195992?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/4360539838090195992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/06/clarity-noun-clearness-or-lucidity-as.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4360539838090195992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4360539838090195992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/06/clarity-noun-clearness-or-lucidity-as.html' title='Clarity, noun- clearness or lucidity as to perception or understanding'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-2732568315019777166</id><published>2010-06-04T19:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T12:18:24.057-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Doritos</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;So, as of my last post, I was still living with my roommates. A lot has changed in the short time since then. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;We have all moved out of our crash pad called House On Wynne and found new places to call home. It was a sad day when we all started packing. But we went out with a bang. What else would my crazy house do in such a situation? Nothing but party is the correct answer. I hope you got it right!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;We had quite the Canadian Connection as we called it. The reason for the Canadian theme you might ask? We don't have an answer. But lets just say, it was as Canadian and Redneck as you can get. We had all you can eat pancakes along with all you can guzzle maple syrup, all you can drink beer and cocktails, all you can wrestle mud, and all you could need awesome. I will share a few pictures with you so you can get an idea.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmb4GpCibI/AAAAAAAAAE0/ldh7IOlAa4E/s1600/28119_396066023282_739403282_4171712_5883537_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmb4GpCibI/AAAAAAAAAE0/ldh7IOlAa4E/s320/28119_396066023282_739403282_4171712_5883537_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Here is Serena and myself, preparing the mud pit, and respecting the Canadian Flag.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmcWcqrEcI/AAAAAAAAAE8/_SunKEKiZ4I/s1600/28119_396066148282_739403282_4171729_3365031_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmcWcqrEcI/AAAAAAAAAE8/_SunKEKiZ4I/s320/28119_396066148282_739403282_4171729_3365031_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Here we are with Serena looking as gay as possible, and me looking like I love it. Rock on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Nothing but love at H.O.W.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmdABViNxI/AAAAAAAAAFE/PBMA5oDQnrc/s1600/28119_396066183282_739403282_4171735_5572622_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmdABViNxI/AAAAAAAAAFE/PBMA5oDQnrc/s320/28119_396066183282_739403282_4171735_5572622_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;This one is in here just so you can see the gas can... Don't worry you guys, there was no gas in it. Just some awesome apple cider vodka drink that Serena made. We used it to take shots out of. Redneck much?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmd9IU3oNI/AAAAAAAAAFM/6omG_snifng/s1600/32222_1438981611129_1130693135_1300454_8256384_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmd9IU3oNI/AAAAAAAAAFM/6omG_snifng/s320/32222_1438981611129_1130693135_1300454_8256384_n.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;This is my cooking apron, it isn't Canadian in the least, it is just in here because it is the only picture of my face not covered in mud where you can see my mountie hat, my mustache, my police badge so everyone knows that I am the law, and my gun. This is how we do Canadia!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Can I just say one thing... as inappropriate as this looks.... you should see the apron w/o the bikini... ooph&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;The neighbors on both sides of the house partied with us for a lot of the night, it was a good time. I can't show you anymore pictures from the night... not because they are inappropriate, but because our photographer had another party she had to go to. So, you will just have to imagine the rest. Good luck. Needless to say, we had a fantastic time and it was a great way to end out reign at House On Wynne.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Since then, I have moved back home so I can put all my money away in order to pay for school. I got a job at a bar just a few miles away, but then got fired before I even started... It was quite the confusing situation... especially since the boss fired me via text message. Because an actual phone call or real communication is for losers I guess. Oh well, today I was hired at a cafe called Sandella's. So I start on Monday. It should be a good job and I am looking forward to it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;What else is new?? Hmmm,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;Not a lot. I got my motorcycle permit.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I have started seeing this guy named Nick. We are not a couple yet, we will see what happens there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;I am hanging out with some old HS friends again. The few that I actually liked. It is pretty awesome seeing them again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;And I am reconnecting with my family in a more real way then when you just stop by for a visit. It is good. Although it can be stressful at times, or just straight up annoying, it is also good.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;That is all for now.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;ps, the title of the post has nothing to do with the post. I just want some Doritos... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-2732568315019777166?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/2732568315019777166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/06/doritos.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2732568315019777166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2732568315019777166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/06/doritos.html' title='Doritos'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TAmb4GpCibI/AAAAAAAAAE0/ldh7IOlAa4E/s72-c/28119_396066023282_739403282_4171712_5883537_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-8460247764782254983</id><published>2010-05-11T12:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T13:17:55.322-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Blog?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I am pretty sure it has been 15 years since I have blogged last. Here's why, I would think about it, know what I could blog about, then forget it. Too much work. But alas, there is a lot that has, is, or is about to happen with me. And I feel better when I blog since it is a journal in a way. So, here is, in a nut shell, what has happened with me in the last forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I quit my jobs in Rochester, moved to the cities without much of a plan. I decided on which school I was going to go to, got accepted, went through all the paper work... it was Le Cordon Bleu... for oh the minuscule amount of $42,500 a year... no biggie. Then decided with my Mom, step-dad, and Cheryl's help that it was a complete waste of money and that there are much better schools out there for the money. But we will get back to that in a minute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I moved in with some bomb roomies. I live in a hippie communal house right now. It is a six bedroom in the Como Park area of St. Paul. 6 of us live there and we are a pretty fun group to say the least. I love them and I couldn't have gotten a better living situation for my stay in St. Paul. I say "for my stay in St. Paul," because I am not going to be in St. Paul very long. In fact, our douche baggish landlord is evicting us so they can sell the house. They aren't douche bags because they want to sell the house, so please don't take that the wrong way. They are douche bags because the chick is an ex cop and should know the laws, yet she chooses to violate our privacy on a number of occasions. So, she is a law breaking douche. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Anyway, we are all out at the end of the month, in less that 3 weeks... sweet. At that point I am going to stay with my family for a few months until I move again. Yes, move... again. I guess staying in one place just isn't my thing. So, I sold all my stuff so I don't have as much to move and I am hitting the road in July for..... wait for it.... waaaiiiitttttt........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt; wwwwwwwaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiitttttttttt...........&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;CALIFORNIA!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Woohoo! Yes, you read that right, I am actually making the move. I have been accepted into a school out there for the Culinary Arts and I start in September. So, I will chill here until after my birthday and save up as much money as I can so I won't have as much to worry about when I get out there. Then I can get a job before school starts and get settled into a place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Then come September, I will be working hard (or hardly working?) I will be attending Napa Valley School, but I will be in St. Helena at the Cooking School branch. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Its a pretty bomb ass school, and here is why,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;They only accept 20 students a year, there are only two teachers, but many guest speakers and teachers, they cost less than half the price of LCB, they have a great focus on sustainability (for those of you who care about God's planet,)  they have a big garden with a lot of the herbs and veggies we use and they have a flock of chickens we will care for a use, and THEY ARE IN NAPA!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Needless to say, I am quite excited about it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;It should be a great experience and I couldn't be more sure about something. The doors were opened up so much smoother than LCB and this time I feel confident in my choice. I have my mom, step dad and Cheryl to thank for the encouragement and help with this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;So, let's see, we covered me leaving Roch, moving to STP, school... both of them, my future move to CA... I think that is about it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Oh yeah, I have also become a hooker and drug addict... We have a harem in the basement where all my other hooker friends are, it is right next to the meth lab, which is just to the right of the cages where we keep our pitbulls for dog fights. We also have a little room for our shrooms, thats how we pay for our meth lab, which is how we pay for all our coke. Its a great set up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;God Bless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-8460247764782254983?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/8460247764782254983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-blog.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/8460247764782254983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/8460247764782254983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-blog.html' title='What Blog?'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-2932972717100305459</id><published>2009-12-11T11:11:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T10:37:06.690-06:00</updated><title type='text'>God vs Politics</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I heard a message last Sunday night at The Gallery Covenant church in St. Paul that really resonated with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It had to do with politics in the church. I love getting into conversations about politics because &lt;em&gt;I don't care about them&lt;/em&gt;! And that is what I will tell anyone. I don't care who wins the presidency, I don't care what bill was just passed, or where my tax money goes, and I really don't care what political party you side with. I don't care at all. I can't think of a more “earthy” thing to consume my time and energy. &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We let such a stupid thing divide us. Whether it be in a church, a school, a family, friends, marriage, we let this one stupid thing come between us and other people. Jesus called us to love people, it was a commandment! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;        “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind….&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;           and the second is equally important: love your neighbor as yourself.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He never called us to love the &lt;?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;U.S.&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; I don't mean that we shouldn't love the country we live in, we should be thankful… but we care SO much about politics that we end up worshiping our country instead of loving God and our neighbors, and that is what I wanted to talk about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Example- the 4&lt;sup&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sup&gt; of July, we celebrate it like it is a religion. It is scary how much we all care about the 4&lt;sup&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sup&gt; of July. I don’t know many people that choose not to celebrate it. But Christmas and Easter… how many people do you know that celebrate Christmas for the presents and make it about &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;santa&lt;/span&gt;, and they make &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;easter&lt;/span&gt; about the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;easter&lt;/span&gt; bunny and the eggs and candy? It is crazy how little we care about those holidays and their true meaning, but the 4&lt;sup&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sup&gt; is a huge deal.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The reason this scares me so much is because we celebrate our freedom in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;America&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; instead of in Christ. We talk about freedom and about how we are free because we live in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;America&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; and if it weren't for our troops and past wars, we wouldn't be free. We assume that other countries aren't free because their earthly living conditions are not what ours are. But so many of them are happier because they have found freedom in God instead of a country. They know that this world is not what they want it to be, it isn't perfect, but God is perfect beyond measure. We are free in Him and nothing else. Feeling free because of &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;America&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; seems to be more like a yoke we carry while this country holds the reins. How is that freedom?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Enough about worshiping &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;America&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;, it pisses me off to talk or write about.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have a quote that I want to share with you from Greg Boyd, the speaker from last Sunday night. “When you have the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:placetype st="on"&gt;kingdom&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt; of &lt;st1:placename st="on"&gt;God&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; in common, the differences you have about how government should operate are dwarfed in significance” &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I love this quote and I hope it is something that makes you think also about what we celebrate as this holiday season gets closer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-2932972717100305459?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/2932972717100305459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/12/god-vs-politics.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2932972717100305459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2932972717100305459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/12/god-vs-politics.html' title='God vs Politics'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-6740866137801879226</id><published>2009-11-11T10:04:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T09:56:26.556-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have been practicing my goodbyes lately. It isn't something I am good at. I never have been. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I remember my sister telling my once how she would cry after saying bye each time I visited for the weekend and would have to go back to my dad's house. I remember crying too.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I think it all started when I was a kid and was not given the opportunity to say goodbye. Long story short, I was, in a way, kidnapped from my mom in Tennessee. My sister and I didn't get to say bye to each other. I was in preschool, my sister wasn't even in first grade yet, and my brother was just a newborn. We were on our way to church in our cute matching Sunday dresses, when I was taken right out of the family truck in our driveway. I remember kicking and screaming and not being able to do anything about it. My own mom had to watch this happen and she wasn't able to do &lt;em&gt;anything. &lt;/em&gt;Don't get me wrong, she did put up a fight, but it was no good and it was too late. I can't imagine how hard that would be for her, it was hard enough for me, and I didn't even know what was happening. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;My first hard goodbye was a &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; hard one. I don't think I have kept from crying during a goodbye since then. I have never understood a goodbye that was easy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I have been working on some goodbyes these last couple weeks. Not just a simple goodbye, but some really hard ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;My sister is moving to Germany on Tuesday, she will be gone for three years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;She is my best friend. She has been my constant in life, and I love her to death. Her leaving is really a bitter-sweet situation though. Her husband lives in Germany for the army, and she will be joining him. They will get to be together for the first time since they have been married. They have had an interesting situation their first couple years of marriage, so this will be awesome for them. It is just hard to know that I won't be seeing much of my sister in the next three years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Last Thursday I took the day off to hang out with her all day. It was an awesome day. We didn't make any plans, we just let the day unfold. Then on Saturday I spent the evening with the family. We ate dinner together, then played a game and watched a movie. But my favorite part of the night had to be at the end when I was getting ready to go home. Ashley and I sat in bed together and just talked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;We share stories when we are together, we share the same stories that we have been telling for years, and they never get old. We still laugh until we cry. Or we tell a story that makes us cry until we laugh. It never gets old, but it is still just as hard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;It wasn't the last goodbye though. I will see her this Saturday, then that is it. I can guarantee it will be a tearful goodbye again, but I will try to see it as bitter-sweet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;There was someone else I almost said goodbye to, for real and forever. Only with him, there were no words between us. It was my favorite uncle actually. He tried to kill himself last Thursday. He is ok and in the hospital, but he is not doing so well. He has three kids from his late wife, and his current wife has a daughter as well. He almost left this world leaving behind a wife, four kids, and so many people that care for him deeply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I don't get to see him much, but when I do, I feel such a connection with him. He is the only uncle that I could watch a movie with and know that he will be crying at the same parts as me. He is such a cool guy but he is carrying so much weight on his shoulders. I hope and pray that he is going to recover and that he will never feel the need to leave this world prematurely again, because that is one goodbye that I wouldn't get back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;These last goodbyes are ones that hopefully will be short-lived. It is a friend goodbye, the kind that you don't want to say, but yet, it is somehow it is said without words...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I have felt like bridges I have never wanted to burn are being burned or are on the verge or burning. It is a goodbye that shouldn't be said, but unfortunately it is one that is said quite often. I hate when friendships end, but as I am sure everyone knows, it is a part of life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I have grown close to many people in my life, some from the cities, some from Rochester, but all people that I have grown to genuinely love. When things happen within a friendship that are hurtful, sometimes it is easier for a person to ignore it, and the friend, than to fix it. Apologies are hard things. I hate apologising, I hate being wrong, I hate even more to have to tell someone I am sorry for being wrong. But friendships are hard work, they require love, patience and the strength to apologize. It is easy to be all these things, just maybe not all at once or all with one person. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I hope that a few people and I can be these things with each other and the friendships can be mended and renewed. I don't want to say that goodbye, and I hope other people feel the same way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I am sick of goodbye, I don't want to say it anymore, and I don't want to hear it either. I pray for strength in those hard moments. And I pray for joy in the moments that I have with the people that I have to say goodbye to. I don't want to miss out on the good because I am focused on the sadness. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-6740866137801879226?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/6740866137801879226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-dont-know-why-you-say-goodbye-i-say_11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/6740866137801879226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/6740866137801879226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-dont-know-why-you-say-goodbye-i-say_11.html' title='I don&apos;t know why you say goodbye, I say hello'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-7437520201430785867</id><published>2009-09-21T09:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T10:18:01.438-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Comfort</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As I have been hoping to go on missions trips and travel, I have also begun to think about being comfortable. It is something that has been in my head since I moved here 2+ years ago. Being comfortable sounds like death to me. Having life all planned out and perfect can't be fun in any way. Not for me anyway. I don't want to sound harsh or like I am insulting those of you who are comfortable in life. That is not what this post is about. It is about how if I was comfortable, I would die in spirit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I find that when I am fine with how things are going and nothing is wrong, I don't wish to grown in my faith. Because why grow if everything is fine right? It is a horrible mind set for me to get into. I am kind of jealous of those of you who can be comfortable and still want to grow closer to God and know Him more. It is just something I have not been able to accomplish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I think that is partially why I am looking forward to traveling so much. If I go to New Zealand and am away from my family and friends for 6 months, I would seriously need God to get me through it. I would strive to be closer to Him &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; that I miss home. I got homesick being in Georgia for a week... 6 months would be tough. (I do still hope I have someone who could visit me though!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The dictionary defines comfort as ease, undisturbed, adequate or sufficient. That sounds like too much for me. Somethings may come easy, I may have undisturbed time, and have sufficiency in my life. But I hope and pray that I don't have all of it at once. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now don't get me wrong, I don't hope to be like Job and have everything taken away from me. That in no way sounds fun or &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;pleasant&lt;/span&gt;. But I do want God to take me places, and bring people to me that will challenge me spiritually, mentally and physically. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That is my prayer today. For a life of people, places and challenges that will bring me closer to God. I don't know what could be better!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-7437520201430785867?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/7437520201430785867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/09/comfort.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7437520201430785867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7437520201430785867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/09/comfort.html' title='Comfort'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-2981240058519363985</id><published>2009-09-18T09:28:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T09:53:07.497-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, I didn't really post anything this summer. Sorry! I will try to catch you up without overwhelming you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The school year has started. (for most, but not for me) And I am back to work full time at the cafe. It is so great to see everyone again and to see the kids running around. They really cheer the place up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am also working at &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Zumiez&lt;/span&gt; so I can not only pay my bills, but save money and still have some cash left over for fun. It is a lot of work, but I can do it, having a goal in mind makes it much easier to go to work after getting home from work. And really the work is too &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;treacherous&lt;/span&gt;. I make drinks and sell kids clothes and skateboards. Not bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But, speaking of goals, I will give you a tiny little preview of what those are! The reason I am just giving a tiny preview, is because I don't want to get overly-excited about something that isn't set in stone yet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That being said, I might go to Rwanda this summer for a couple weeks with the Land of 1000 Hills group. The trip is in mid-June would be an amazing experience if I go. I am praying about it and we will see what happens. This ministry is absolutely amazing, they do so much work for the farmers in Rwanda, and they really focus on showing God's amazing love. &lt;a href="http://landof1000hills.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;http://landof1000hills.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Also, in October of 2010, it is a possibility that I might go to New Zealand for 6 months. I have to apply, get accepted, and have the money though. I can apply in December, so as soon as I can send it in, I will. Then I will continue to pray about it and we will see what happens with that as well. This is a 6 month missions school through YWAM. If you don't know YWAM, I suggest you go to the website and check it out. &lt;a href="http://ywam.org/"&gt;http://ywam.org/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I appreciate all your prayers about these trips. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That is really it for me this summer, I just worked and played... mostly worked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now that it is the school year, I have more exciting stuff going on, and I plan to keep up on blogging... writing and reading them. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-2981240058519363985?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/2981240058519363985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-i-didnt-really-post-anything-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2981240058519363985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2981240058519363985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-i-didnt-really-post-anything-this.html' title='Summer'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-2159740540451619303</id><published>2009-07-08T15:59:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T09:56:01.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Coffee Bean Adventure.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Thank you Brandon &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ganz&lt;/span&gt; for that name for this trip.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, my week in GA was awesome!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I had so much fun hanging out in the coffee shop. It was the cutest place ever. It was a smaller house made into a coffee shop. The walls were painted red, tan, and brown colors. There was some great Afican art on the walls, pictures taken from their trips to Rwanda, and shelves with more art. There was a brick fireplace in the middle of where the living room would be, and couches, tables and chairs all over. Seriously, the cutest coffee shop ever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I got to taste all their coffees and I had a few other specialty drinks. I hung out in the roasting room and had a crash course on how to roast coffee. It is in an incredible process, a lot goes into it. I got some great information about their ministry and how we as a church cafe can help them and ourselves through their coffee. I am super excited to kick off the fall with this new stuff!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I stayed with two ladies whom I had never met for the first half of the week. It was really fun getting to know them and hang out. They made me feel so welcome. One of them worked for Land of a Thousand Hills, so that is how I got hooked up with them. And the other one was a vegetarian! Heck yes. They had this cute &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;town home&lt;/span&gt; next to a state park, it was a great location.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Random, but necessary story-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On the way to the shop one morning I saw a great bumper sticker. It said this- I heart (there was a heart there) boobies.... Yes, boobies. Why would someone put that on their car?? I don't know, I just know it was funny. Then I thought, how funny would it be if I had an I heart boobies bumper sticker? ...but wait, I don't want people to confuse my sexual orientation... so maybe I should get an I heart penis sticker to go with it? ...no.... that is just inappropriate, and they will also think I am bisexual... another thing I don't want. Hmmm... OH I have it! Great solution- I will also get an I heart Jesus sticker! Now that is a great idea and a problem solver.... I will heart boobies, penises and Jesus. Great. Now everyone will know what I am about. (joke)&lt;br /&gt;OR I could just skip the whole thing and not get any stickers? Yeah, that is probably best.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That is almost word for word what ran through my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Aren't you glad you are not in my head?? Sometimes I wish I wasn't either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Another story, not so inappropriate this time-&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who don't know, I suck at shopping. I will walk the same isles seven times before I get everything I need. I was probably in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt; for at least an hour and left with maybe ten things. The line was also a really long wait. Not my favorite when I was as hungry as I was. But oh well. That trip resulted in finding my future husband. Oh crap, did I say that out loud?? ;) Ok, let me tell you.... he was SO cute. He was from NY and he was there for a trade show. We were both semi-lost, but we found Walmart and decided to do our shopping. We walked in together and chatted and flirted then went our separate ways. He asked me if I had my GPS to find my way around Walmart... no, and I should have! Anyway, I don't even know his name, but I will marry him. ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Then the second part of the week I camped at Red Top &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Mtn&lt;/span&gt; state park. It was so beautiful there. I had a great spot on top of the mountain. The spot was huge, and it was up a hill, about a half a mile from the beach. The pictures don't do it justice. The only down side to this place, was that I had to kill a spider while I was peeing!!! NOT COOL. All in all though, a great place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;On my way home I stayed with a good friend in Chicago. She is going to school there at North Park University. I stayed with her and her six roommates. It was really funny because there are always girls in and out, staying the weekend or just the night, and I was asked three times if I had just moved in or was going to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In the morning Katie and I went to an awesome vegetarian resaurant that had some awesome vegan options. I had an amazing breakfast, a pesto and goat cheese omlet. SOOO good. Then a few of the roommates and Kate and I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;went to Hyde park to tour the area. They are all die hard liberal Obama supporters. So as you can imagine, they were quite excited to eat where he ate, buy books where he buys books, see his house and so on. It was a good time and an interesting tour. On the way back I laughed so hard in the car that I thought I was going to pee my pants! I laugh harder with Katie than almost anyone else. We have been friends for six or seven years now and we have so many stories, we always tell them when we hang out, and they are just as funny as when they happened the first time. I love friends. She is one of the few I have from when I was in school.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was only going to stay one night and part of the next day, then hit the road again. But I was having too much fun and I knew if I left early enough the next day, that I would make it back on time for work. So on Monday I woke up at 4:30 and hit the road by 5. Oophta, I was tired! I had such a great time with everyone though, it was well worth it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;All in all, I had a great week, I will miss GA and the people and my friend from Chicago. But I got homesick and am really glad to be home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-2159740540451619303?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/2159740540451619303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/07/great-coffee-bean-adventure.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2159740540451619303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2159740540451619303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/07/great-coffee-bean-adventure.html' title='Great Coffee Bean Adventure.'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-2106353175191352581</id><published>2009-07-07T10:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T10:44:13.917-05:00</updated><title type='text'>GA pt. 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Oh wow. If I didn't love driving I would have hated the getting here, but since that is not the case, I had a great time, it was quite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;adventurous&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive down was a good one. I was going to leave right after church on Sunday, but that SO didn't happen. I went over to Deanne's house and stayed for about 3 hours. Then got on the road around 4. There was HORRIBLE traffic in the Dells area. I am pretty sure I was there for two hours in traffic. Needless to say, it sucked. Especially since I figured out my radio is slightly ghetto and only works when I am driving at least 30mph and the window is at the very least cracked two inches, talk about needy. So, those two hours of stop and go were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;musicless&lt;/span&gt;... and sad.&lt;br /&gt;I finally got into Chicago around midnight and pulled over at a rest stop/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;McDonald's&lt;/span&gt; to sleep. I went to sleep around 1 and woke up at 5, great four hours of sleep. I got as ready as I could before hitting the road again, so basically I brushed my teeth, changed clothes and rinsed off my face. I got really tired around 7:30 from my lack of sleep and pulled over at a different rest stop to nap for an hour. It felt great. And the back of the jeep is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;surprisingly&lt;/span&gt; roomy.&lt;br /&gt;There is not much to tell about the rest of the drive other than-&lt;br /&gt;I saw a dinosaur, I saw an armadillo, I got pulled over and didn't look cute or have a low cut shirt on, so I got a ticket, I hit more rush hour traffic, I had to pee what seemed like 700 times from all my iced tea and red bull, and I started to lose my voice from singing.&lt;br /&gt;I made it to the coffee house at 6 your time and 7 here. I met up with Erin Leigh and Mindy. (who is hosting me the first part of the week) We went out to a cute &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;mexican&lt;/span&gt; food place in historic Roswell. The place reminded me of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Las&lt;/span&gt; Margaritas and was really cute. (for you CG people who know what I am talking about)&lt;br /&gt;That is all for now. I am sitting in the coffee shop and will write more as it happens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-2106353175191352581?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/2106353175191352581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/07/ga-pt-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2106353175191352581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2106353175191352581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/07/ga-pt-1.html' title='GA pt. 1'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-4315880007013131254</id><published>2009-07-04T23:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T23:54:50.741-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vacation!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am done packing, the car is loaded up, I hope I didn't forget anything, and I am so ready to go!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am needed a vacation. I love Rochester, and I love the people. But just like anyone else, I get to that point where I need out. I am at that point, and this trip will be a perfect solution. I am headed to Georgia tomorrow. I have to work 8:30 to 12:30 then I hit the road. I plan to make it Chicago at least before I stop driving for the night. Then Monday morning I will finish the drive to Roswell, GA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I will be gone a week, Sunday through Sunday. There is an awesome ministry in GA called Land Of A Thousand Hills. They work with the genocide victims in Rwanda to grow coffee and sell it. They are a part of everything, from helping the farmers prepare to grow the coffee beans, to it being in the cup. They give more back to the farmers than any "free trade" I have ever heard of. Its awesome. And Monday I will be hanging out with them! I am super excited. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I will tell you about the trip when I get back. And hopefully I will have a few pictures to post.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-4315880007013131254?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/4315880007013131254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/07/vacation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4315880007013131254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4315880007013131254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/07/vacation.html' title='Vacation!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-660366940511675182</id><published>2009-06-29T00:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T00:28:28.887-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My birthday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Well, it isn't actually my birthday yet, I still have until the 30th as a 19 year old. And then, I will no longer be a teenager... WOOHOO!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Ebby Ray and Marian Holtorf were so kind to me this year and threw me the best party I have ever had for my birthday. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I had such a great time. A bunch of my Rochester families and friends were there, and we hung out in the beautiful weather and ate and chatted and played. What could be better?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Here is a link to some of the pictures that Veronica took for me. Enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=133925&amp;amp;id=548315258&amp;amp;l=7cec2e311b"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=133925&amp;amp;id=548315258&amp;amp;l=7cec2e311b&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-660366940511675182?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/660366940511675182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-birthday.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/660366940511675182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/660366940511675182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-birthday.html' title='My birthday!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-6877153923072861779</id><published>2009-06-25T07:53:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T08:24:12.454-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stereotype</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, so the other day I read a post someone put on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;facebook&lt;/span&gt;. The title of the post was even suggesting that&lt;em&gt; I&lt;/em&gt; specifically read it. So, of course, I checked it out. I was thinking it was going to be funny or something that I would appreciate because this person and I often laugh at the same things. But not lately.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Well, this was not a post that I enjoyed one bit. It may have been funny to people who stereotype in that manner, but when the stereotype is something you get enough of, you don't want to read about it in a "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;humerus&lt;/span&gt;" way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This post made sure to elaborate on how lazy my generation is. It said "You kids today have got it too easy. You're spoiled." It also said something along the lines of us being spoiled brats.... Really?!? &lt;em&gt;All &lt;/em&gt;of us are spoiled brats? Good to know. I guess I missed that memo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is a stereotype I have to fight all the time. I hate being put into a generalization of my generation. I am not a lazy spoiled brat. I dare someone to say that to me and mean it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I work two jobs, soon to be three, two of which are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;management&lt;/span&gt; positions that I worked for. Not long ago I was working 7 days a week. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I bought my own car, I pay for my insurance, which is under &lt;em&gt;my&lt;/em&gt; name... not my daddy's. I pay rent where I live. I pay for my phone bill, I buy my own groceries, clothes, shampoo, furniture. Yes, people have me over for dinner, and before throwing out an entertainment center I was asked if I would like it. Some things get handed to me. But not to the extent of being someone who is lazy and spoiled. And &lt;em&gt;especially&lt;/em&gt; not a brat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I am not the "typical" 19 year old.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I don't mean to sound full of myself or to toot my own horn, but seriously, I can say those things about myself and know that they are true. People (who don't stereotype me, and who really know me for who I am) affirm me quite often with this. So, that is how I feel. That was my rant, and now I am done...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;After thinking about this, I think it is really important for me and those of us who hate being stereotyped to quit doing it to others. I need to watch what I do and say about people. I would hate for someone to blog about me because they are mad about what I said! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-6877153923072861779?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/6877153923072861779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/06/stereotype.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/6877153923072861779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/6877153923072861779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/06/stereotype.html' title='Stereotype'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-2858519986277538127</id><published>2009-06-11T08:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T22:03:32.005-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just do it</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Do you ever wish, you could just &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; whatever it is that you want... within reason of course. Do you ever wish that the fear in you, about whatever it may be, would subside and you wouldn't second guess yourself or think twice about it, and you would just do it? I know I do... that is for sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Over the last two years I have changed so much, and this isn't just some observation I have made about myself, it is something that a lot of people have told me. There was growing up that needed to happen, bridges that needed to be burned and bridges that needed to be built. There have been great relationships established in the last two years that have changed my life in the best of ways. There was a lot of maturity lacking in my life, and there were things that I needed to find out for myself, it has been an adventure to say the least. I changed so much, and a lot of it, I like... but there is one thing in particular that needs to change asap! And it is this... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have become too cultivated... is that the word I am looking for? I think so... I don't take the jump anymore. I think twice, I chicken out, I think about the long term... It is getting annoying. I know that in some cases it is a good thing to reevaluate the situation, but I have become quite the pansy this way. I have been thinking about all I could miss out on because of this. I don't want to think about what is in the water, I want to just jump in! I don't want to think about going off the jump when I snowboard, I just want to do it. And who cares about a spider bite?? Holy crap that is seriously something I need to get over! I always hear that they are more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;afraid&lt;/span&gt; of me that I am of them... but I choose not to believe it. Why? Am I more comfortable being &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;afraid&lt;/span&gt; than I am embracing the fact that there will be spiders in my house sometimes? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I don't want to think about the worst case &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;scenario&lt;/span&gt; in everything, because honestly, how often is our worst case &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;scenario&lt;/span&gt; the real deal? I want to be free to just &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is my rant to myself. I am sure that many people go through the same type of thing. Not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;necessarily&lt;/span&gt; with water, snow and spiders, but we are all afraid of something. And I am sure that all of us have at least one thing that we really really wish we could get over. It is a learning process... a long one... for me anyway! My goal for now, until I leave, is going to be to get over some of these fears that I carry with me. I will not chicken out, I will live life without these fears that hold me back. (God help me!) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-2858519986277538127?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/2858519986277538127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/06/just-do-it.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2858519986277538127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2858519986277538127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/06/just-do-it.html' title='Just do it'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-4681506448375828300</id><published>2009-06-02T23:21:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T10:46:08.531-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Randomness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well, goodness, I have not posted in a long time! So, this post is to fill you all in on the random things that have been going on with me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have started summer hours in the cafe. It is nice not working so much. And because of summer hours, I have had to pick up another job. It is a great one though. I am nannying for the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ganz&lt;/span&gt; family! I just love baby Micah and Anna, they make my heart smile every time I see them. I couldn't ask for a better couple of kids to watch for the summer.&lt;br /&gt;Here is Micah just hanging out and resting his chin on my leg while we watch Everyday Italian on the Food Network. (our favorite show and channel)&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifnA6LlsJI/AAAAAAAAADI/MOpwoFnR560/s1600-h/IMG00013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343493485702262930" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifnA6LlsJI/AAAAAAAAADI/MOpwoFnR560/s320/IMG00013.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifST8YoNXI/AAAAAAAAACg/vzgD4ACHR0I/s1600-h/IMG00013.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And here is Anna and I playing on the front steps of the old house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/Sifd26m0HSI/AAAAAAAAACw/XQqFVHCwguo/s1600-h/IMG00081.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifnaIun_TI/AAAAAAAAADY/lYmMh8RAF3o/s1600-h/IMG00081.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343493919104040242" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifnaIun_TI/AAAAAAAAADY/lYmMh8RAF3o/s320/IMG00081.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;grama&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;grampa's&lt;/span&gt; back yard. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bubbers&lt;/span&gt; is not used to the grass yet. It was so funny watching him play in it. And as you can tell by Anna's hair... it was quite windy! &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifpJyph3GI/AAAAAAAAADg/pfbC85cHu4c/s1600-h/IMG00094.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343495837322435682" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifpJyph3GI/AAAAAAAAADg/pfbC85cHu4c/s320/IMG00094.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/Sifelz7as0I/AAAAAAAAAC4/BtqOQXEUlPk/s1600-h/IMG00094.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister came into town last week. We don't get to see each other as often as I would like. It is nice having at least one person from that side of the family that I talk to on a semi-regular basis. She came into town and we tried not to have too much of an agenda. We hung out at my place for a little bit while we decided what to do for morning. And, we decided to go get her nose pierced, it was fun being on the watching end of it. I can't imaging having a needle that big shoved through my nose! I can't believe I did it!&lt;br /&gt;Then we went out for sushi with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ebby&lt;/span&gt; and Audrey. Deanne and Jennifer couldn't join us, but we made due and had a good time. We went to sushi &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;itto&lt;/span&gt;... if I could go there at lease once a week, I so would. That place is amazing.&lt;br /&gt;Then we just messed around for a while. We walked around for a little bit downtown, then went for coffee. And on a crappy rainy day, what could be better than a movie? Yep, that's right, nothing! So we went to go so Night at the Museum 2, a very cute movie.&lt;br /&gt;And to finish off the day, we hung out at the Jensen's house. a darn good time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought a pet the other day. It was fun, I have never really bought a pet before. I got a panther gecko, they are super cute. But I am not sure if it is a boy or a girl, and it was hard to come up with a name for a boy/girl gecko... so I named him Metro because I think he is a boy, but he is kind of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;girly&lt;/span&gt;... Whatever though, the name seems minuscule. All I know, is that I already love him! He was the cutest of all the geckos and he liked to be held, so that is why I chose him. Then when Veronica got home we put his house together. It was funny because we couldn't figure anything out! And the things that seemed like they should be easy didn't come with instructions... the few things that we really needed them for!&lt;br /&gt;Here is Metro, he would dip his face in the water and then lick his lips? (Do gecko's have lips?) It was super cute.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SiffEO6WvXI/AAAAAAAAADA/09Z8ffMRwuU/s1600-h/IMG00103.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifqIGSpKzI/AAAAAAAAADo/KM7t34mo654/s1600-h/IMG00103.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343496907747044146" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifqIGSpKzI/AAAAAAAAADo/KM7t34mo654/s320/IMG00103.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, the other day Veronica and I went long boarding and rip-sticking. It was a fun time. I want to buy a long board now for cruising around town. If I get good enough it would be fun to get to work on a long board. I am pretty sure I would be the coolest cat on the block! (as if I am not already! Ha, just kidding...) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that is it for now. I will try to stay caught up better this summer! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-4681506448375828300?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/4681506448375828300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/06/randomness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4681506448375828300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4681506448375828300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/06/randomness.html' title='Randomness'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SifnA6LlsJI/AAAAAAAAADI/MOpwoFnR560/s72-c/IMG00013.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-7654607640143449375</id><published>2009-05-27T10:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T10:54:35.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I love my sister!</title><content type='html'>I just wanted to say how much I love my sister.  She is my favorite person in the world and I wish that I could live with her forever.  Unfortunately, this won't happen.  That's all I wanted to say.  O, and she has great taste in chocolate.  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-7654607640143449375?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/7654607640143449375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-love-my-sister.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7654607640143449375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7654607640143449375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-love-my-sister.html' title='I love my sister!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-7828042649188760295</id><published>2009-05-18T10:25:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T11:44:30.780-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer Request</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff9900;"&gt;I don't want to get my hopes up for fear that the God will close the door. But please pray for me that I can see the open doors and not pound on the closed ones.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. I am waiting for my health insurance to go through so that I can get up to date on stuff and leave the country with a little more comfort in my health. MN care needed one more piece of info before they could determine if I will be approved or not. I sent in the info today and hopefully the insurance will go through soon. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#009900;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I need to have my wisdom teeth removed. I need new glasses and contacts that work! I need my shots, who wants to hold my hand? Seriously? I need a full physical before leaving the US, and I think that is it for doctor stuff... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. After that goes through, I can finish my YWAM applications. YWAM stands for Youth With A Mission. It is a christian organization that enables people to go to other countries, take classes on things like church planting, missions, etc, and then use those skills to evangelize. It's an amazing program, and as of now, the doors are open and as I pray about it, I feel God placing this on my heart for a reason. So, please pray for open doors if this is God's will. And if it isn't in his will for me, then I hope that I can see that and not try to fight it.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Please pray for relationships. There are some things I am dealing with that are very stressful at times. I need God's guidance in these matters. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;That is all I need right now! Thank you all for being so wonderful, I appreciate your prayers and help in these matters.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-7828042649188760295?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/7828042649188760295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/prayer-request.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7828042649188760295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7828042649188760295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/prayer-request.html' title='Prayer Request'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-9147663328001581621</id><published>2009-05-18T09:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T10:25:09.606-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My rediculous restless night</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Ok, let me just tell you a funny story about my lack of sleep last night. It involved rediculous dreams and sleep walking. What fun!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I first had a horrible dream about the cafe (proof that I am there too much!) In the dream, it was just a regular day, not a busy Sunday or anything. There was a customer who wanted a hazelnut latte, and as I go to make it for them I realize we have no hazelnut flavor, so I go to the cupboard with the flavor syrups to grab a new one. Well, there is none there either... So, I ask if sugar free is ok, and I appologize for not having the regular stuff around. But, of course, there is no sugar free either! What the heck? And there is none in the cupboard either! Not cool. So I am panicking and have no idea what to do. And I just wonder to myself how it is possible to have run out of hazelnut. I am just frantic and the customer leaves because I am too busy freaking out to help her. I felt lame. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It is funny though, because this is not the first time I have had weird dreams about work. I had a dream once that the grinder was broken. I would put the coffee beans in, and they would come out the size of wood chips. I also had a dream in which the pastry order didn't show up for the weekend. I had a dream the volunteers didn't show. All of these dreams I guess can be better classified as nightmares since they leave me with a fast heart rate for too long!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Then I also had a dream last night that I was hanging out at my mother's house and spending the night. I was downstairs in my sister April's room, but in the dream it was my brother Joe's. I can't remember what I was doing, but I fell asleep in his bed. I had slept very restlessly in the dream and for real. I know because this morning my blankets were everywhere, which is very unusual for me. But, in the dream I wanted to call Joe to appologize for making his bed a mess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is where the sleep walking came into play. I got out of bed, got my phone, but because it was charging, I just grabbed the charger out of the wall and left the cord in the phone. In the dream though, I called Joe and told him how sorry I was. He didn't care and told me not to worry about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But then when I woke up, my phone was in my bed, lots of buttons had been pushed, and I was tangled up in the sheets and blankets of my bed, and the phone charger! I think it is safe to say that I had a restless night. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have not got for strolls in my sleep in a long time, but I used to all the time. I used to reorganize my room, a mighty feet, but it never looked as good after. I used to get ready for school (and lose all my stuff in the process.) I used to write in my journal, but in the morning it was random words that trailed off into scribbles, and I used to call people. Lots of stuff, but I thought I was over it! I hope this was just a one time thing, I don't like sleep walking, it scares me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-9147663328001581621?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/9147663328001581621/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/ok-let-me-just-tell-you-funny-story.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/9147663328001581621'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/9147663328001581621'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/ok-let-me-just-tell-you-funny-story.html' title='My rediculous restless night'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-5430667380798957968</id><published>2009-05-11T10:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-11T10:41:13.131-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday, wait Mother's Day?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, I didn't really celebrate Mother's Day yesterday. I sent a card to my mom, but everything considered, I did not go see her. Instead, I worked, then relaxed for a bit before filling the rest of my day with stuff. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I took Logan Ludwig to the driving range yesterday. It was funny because he was giving me crap and saying how there is no way I am really a golfer. When I asked him why that is, he just simply replied by saying, "Your a girl!"  Oh yeah, I must have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;forgotten&lt;/span&gt; that girls stay home and cook dinner, clean the house, and take care of the kids while the men go out golfing. My bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, being the very &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;competitive&lt;/span&gt; person with no mercy that I am, I watched him hit a few balls with his driver, then pulled out my 9 iron and hit it 150 yards. Not my best since I didn't play much last year and this was my first time going out this year, but still a good shot. I looked at him, gave him a smarmy look, and waited for his reply. It was jaw dropped, "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Umm&lt;/span&gt;, wow."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That's right Logan, give me a reason so be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;competitive&lt;/span&gt;, and I kick your butt! I can't help that this is the way I am!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Then my little Maddie Ann Ludwig had a Mother's Day dance recital. It was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;ridiculously&lt;/span&gt; cute. It was a mommy and me class. They danced to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Itsy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Bitsy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Teenie&lt;/span&gt; Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini. They were dressed in yellow polka dot bikinis and came out with their mommy's holding a towel in front of them. They are around 3 years old, so they &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;proceeded&lt;/span&gt; to do a few moves. Like, hands in the air, hands by their faces, spin in a circle... easy stuff. But oh no, not Maddie Ann. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;She is show all by herself. The mommy's stood with the kids and sort of directed them, but Maddie would have none of that! She decided that hands on her hips and kicking her feet in the air while running around in the front would be more fun. Then maybe a ballet spin with her arms out would be fun. And last but definitely not least, she ran circles around her mom for a little bit. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I think she had everyone in the audience laughing, a good feet considering the audience was quite large for a recital! I know I had tears from laughing, and I was on the verge of peeing my pants since I didn't go before hand, and Logan was about to fall out of his seat. Needless to say, it was quite amusing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am excited to watch the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;dvd&lt;/span&gt; with Audrey since she was busy trying to look like they knew what they were doing on stage instead of watching what was going on! I did a mini reenactment, but it didn't do Maddie Ann justice! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I will see if I can post the video when the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;dvd&lt;/span&gt; comes out. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, overall, a good day. I got to see many of my favorite church women, and then spent the day with my Ludwig family. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I hope all you moms had a great Mother's Day! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-5430667380798957968?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/5430667380798957968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/sunday-wait-mothers-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5430667380798957968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5430667380798957968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/sunday-wait-mothers-day.html' title='Sunday, wait Mother&apos;s Day?'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-4291769615050339394</id><published>2009-05-07T21:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T22:06:17.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My near death experience</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I almost died today. You all could have never heard from me again. My last post would have been all you have to remember me by.... If it had not been for Hunter Ray. He saved my life today. What a hero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Today I had to go to Target to get a few things, and I brought the boys with. Hunter sat in the front with me, and Cole in the back. We were just on Elton Hills, literally &lt;em&gt;just&lt;/em&gt; turned off our street and had the windows down and getting a good song on, when this experience changed my life....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A bee flew in my window and landed in the front pocket of my bag. It was a big nasty bee with a giant stinger. I am not allergic to bees or anything, but my dad is... so maybe I am? But either way, I do not like them. I have been stung by bees countless times and each time I cry a little. What can I say, I am sensitive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, I start freaking out and nearly screaming as I see this bee trying to move around in my bag that is still over my shoulder and on the seat right next to me. I am trying to explain to the very distraught looking Hunter what is going on while he watches the road intently making sure that I am not swerving into oncoming traffic. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I finally get the words out that a big nasty bee is stuck in my purse and before I can finish what I am saying he has my bag in his lap and he is smashing it in every possible place for a bee to be hiding. He has zipped up the pocket it was in and just starts whaling on it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am by this point out of breath but still finding it in me to crack up at the scene of Hunter beating my bag. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;All this time, Cole is in the back seat looking at us as if we are on crack. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This all happened in about a minute, we were no more than a few blocks from the house. And about half way to the light, Hunter slowly opens the pocket to peak in. He then yells "It's &lt;em&gt;still&lt;/em&gt; alive!!?!" And zips it up again and this time, he not only smashes, but yells at the bee to die! Keep in mind, we are driving on a busy Elton Hills with our windows down, and people around us are also, like Cole, looking at us like we are a bunch of crazies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;But this time, with all of Hunters yelling and smashing, he killed that stupid bee. He then took it out of my bag and threw it out the window, thus saving my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I hope this story inspires you to not take life for granted. Anyday could be our last. Just as today was almost mine. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-4291769615050339394?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/4291769615050339394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-near-death-experience.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4291769615050339394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4291769615050339394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-near-death-experience.html' title='My near death experience'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-3778022201221917508</id><published>2009-05-05T19:55:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T05:44:38.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fears Freedom and Faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Three things we all have... Fears, whatever those may be. Freedom, which we have much of. And Faith, whatever that faith might be in, we have it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was thinking about my fears the other day, which by the way are rediculous and totally unecessary, but fears none the less. Let me tell you what some of those fears are, you might laugh, you might agree, whatever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am super scared of spiders and centipedes (typical). I am afraid of the unknown... just like many of you. I like to know what to expect with every situation. And I am deathly afraid of the water and anything that lives in it. That including sea weed, little fish, turtles, whales, sharks, sea horses, and submarines... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Those are my most serious fears, and like I said, as odd as those may be, are major stressors in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I recently had a bad dream that someone was trying to teach me to surf. We were paddling out into the ocean, going under water as the waves were passing over us. And we were getting further and further out. I was not scared, and I had not looked back... until it was time to turn around and ride a wave back towards shore. We were out so far! It was insane. And I paniced. I looked ahead of me, behind me, and under me. I saw something in the water, it was worse than a shark, whale and submarine combined! I have no idea what it was, but I paddled back to shore as fast as I could. My heart was racing so much I could really feel it. I woke up to a rediculously fast heart rate and cold sweat... not my favorite way to wake up. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;In the morning on my way to work is a daily quite time with God, and as I was praying I thought about that dream. I then felt God revealing my freedoms to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We have so many freedoms that we never think about. We have the freedom to work a job of our choice, of course that doesn't mean we all enjoy our jobs, but hopefully we do! I have a roof over my head, and a roof of my choice at that! I have the freedom to surf the internet on my personal laptop, the freedom to call or text whoever I want on my cell phone. I have the freedom to talk to who I want and befriend who I want. I have the freedom to dress how I want. Believe in a God that I want, pray how I want, worship how I want, have a home church of my choice. I can go to school if I want, but I have the freedom to not. I can leave this country if I want, and I can come back afterwards if I want. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;With these many freedoms though, we get so much stress. We worry about everything don't we?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I really felt God trying to tell me something at this point, but what?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When we put our faith in Him, we give up our worldly freedoms and we gain so much more. We tell God we are His, and we will do what He wants when He wants. We are giving Him total control of our lives. We give up our freedoms, and we hate that don't we? We like control and we like being able to do what we want. But those worldy freedoms are nothing, why hold on to them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, what awesome thing happens when we do this? We know that we don't have to worry about the unknown, because God is in control. We can curb all our fears, because with our amazing God in control, what the heck would we have to worry about? When He has our back, we are a whole new kind of free.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This was just something I have been thinking about and wanted to share with you. I hope you enjoyed reading. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-3778022201221917508?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/3778022201221917508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/fears-freedom-and-faith.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3778022201221917508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3778022201221917508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/05/fears-freedom-and-faith.html' title='Fears Freedom and Faith'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-2797513081158077012</id><published>2009-04-26T18:53:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T20:17:02.824-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Being God's masterpiece.</title><content type='html'>So, I got a new tattoo, and I figured if I show you and tell you the story behind it on here, then I won't have to explain it so much. Not like I don't &lt;em&gt;want&lt;/em&gt; to explain it, but this will save me a few explanations. :) &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SfUGu0RC58I/AAAAAAAAACY/3NM4Iz2ZL2Q/s1600-h/tattoo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329173135436736450" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 79px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SfUGu0RC58I/AAAAAAAAACY/3NM4Iz2ZL2Q/s400/tattoo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SfUGeqGz6AI/AAAAAAAAACQ/iTSN4UzaUZM/s1600-h/tattoo.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Statue of David started out as an idea that someone had and just a simple piece of marble. He was nothing exciting. When Michelangelo began his journey carving out David he saw him as a finished masterpiece, he was perfect. As he carved him and chipped away for so long, and he would talk to him through this whole process. He would say over and over again "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;venuto&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;avanti&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;venuto&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;avanti&lt;/span&gt;" What that means in Italian is "come forward." Michelangelo saw him before he was formed and called him constantly to come forward. He wanted to chip away the pieces of David that he didn't need and that were not a part of the big picture.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Michelangelo calling David is like God calling us. God wants us to let him into our lives so he can chip away the pieces of us that we don't need. He just wants us to be his masterpiece. If we let God into our lives and let him work on us, we will be his perfect masterpiece. Just like David is to Michelangelo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is why I got that tattoo, it will be a reminder for me to always allow God to work on me and make me better and better. I also want to be able to share with anyone who asks, what it means to me and why I got it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-2797513081158077012?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/2797513081158077012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/04/being-gods-masterpiece.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2797513081158077012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2797513081158077012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/04/being-gods-masterpiece.html' title='Being God&apos;s masterpiece.'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SfUGu0RC58I/AAAAAAAAACY/3NM4Iz2ZL2Q/s72-c/tattoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-4197270820930504690</id><published>2009-04-16T09:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T10:27:21.652-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mona Lisa</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Yet another lyrical based blog. That is what I should call my blog! Forget the "just one in six billion".... if all I did was based on lyrics then I would totally change the name to "yet another lyrical based blog"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The name of my blog is besides the point. The point is, I had a song stuck in my head, and poof, something to blog about came to mind. The song is Mona Lisa by The All American Rejects. They are the only band I can think of off the top of my head that has never disappointed me with a song. That is another side note... now to really get to the point.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You can sit beside me when the world comes down,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If it doesn't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;matter then&lt;/span&gt; just turn around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We don't need our bags and we can just leave town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You can sit beside me when the world comes down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C88pmXssR_k"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C88pmXssR_k&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;       ^Music and lyrics^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As I am singing this morning, I realize what I am saying and I wonder, if I was singing this to someone, who would it be? Who would I want to sit beside me when the world came down? If it was my last day on earth, who would I want to be apart of it? There are so many people that come to mind! I just love too many of you all to choose a few. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, this is a shout out to those of you who I would want to be a part of my last day on earth. I would need my family whom I love dearly, and my adoptive families that I don't know what I would do without, and my good friends that make my life so much better. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am so thankful to all of you in my life, every person in my life has impacted me in some way or another. Whether it be the tiniest little thing, or a life changing way. I love you all and thank God for your presence in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-4197270820930504690?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/4197270820930504690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/04/mona-lisa.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4197270820930504690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4197270820930504690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/04/mona-lisa.html' title='Mona Lisa'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-5099975999749950916</id><published>2009-04-12T18:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T19:16:13.272-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And mom was SO mad!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, I have not updated in a long time! Wowza. Here is a brief over-view of what is going on with me and the reason I wanted to blog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;1. I am fervently praying about what is the next step in my life. I am looking into missions and want more than anything to get out of this country (not like I am dissing on America, but I just think that there is so much more out there) and explore God's amazing creation, and while I am doing that, I want to show God's love and passion for people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am working on applying for YWAM DTS's. That stands for Youth With A Mission, and I would go through a Decipleship Training School. The schools are six months with a 3 or 4 month lecture phase and a 2 or 3 month outreach. Please keep me in your prayers as I apply and as they review them. I want the right doors to open and the wrong ones to close. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;2. I have sworn off boys for now. After two situations recently, I have decided that my life would be much better spent focusing on God instead of boys... who knew?! So, I will not have any boyfriends until I feel God can be the center of a relationship that has a real future. I have a feeling this won't be for a while, and that is just fine with me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;3. I have been happy, truly happy, for the first time in probably forever. I feel like I am making God the center of my life more and more, and as I do this, I feel what true happiness is. I feel at peace with much of my life, I still have much to improve upon, but things are going better and better with time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Now, for the reason I wanted to blog today...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;     My sister and I had a great convo today. It wasn't anything important really, she called for directions... But, our conversations never end with the reason we called. I made the "your mom" comment as we were talking about blogging and how I need to get caught up. From there we referred back to stories we often re-tell each other over and over again. We have decided that almost every story we have ends with "And mom was SO mad!" or "And mom would have killed us!" We even end our fortune cookies with those statements instead of the usual "in bed" or something else naughty. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, I thought I would share some of the stories that end with those statements.  But, I won't tell any of the "Mom would kill us" stories in case she reads this and then decides that she is not happy about what we did. I think this is best for not only myself, but for my mom and sister as well! I would love to avoid a conversations similar to the ones we used to have! I hope you enjoy instead of thinking how horrible of a child I was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    My sister and I used to go sliding down the stairs when we were younger, something I am sure many of you did. We would use our sleeping bags that had very slippery outsides on them, and crawl in them as best we could to get as much speed as possible to slide down the stairs. At the bottom, we would usually hit a wall, so we learned that putting couch cushions against the wall is helpful... it took us a while to figure that one out though... There was one time that I was going down backwards and hit wrong and actually flipped over, it was way cool, but when my mom found out.... she was SO mad!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;     Another time we decided that it would be a really good idea to jump from the deck to the pool. And it was, but not to my mom. There is probably a good 10 feet from where the deck sits to get to the pools edge. And of course the pool is surrounded by cement. Now, in our defense, we landed easily in the middle of the deep end. But that was not good enough for my mom... She pulled the whole, "If you slipped and fell wrong, you could have died." Yeah, well, we didn't. But just like the last story, mom was SO mad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;     Ashley and I went "mud wrestling" one time. More like played in a big mud volleyball pit. It was quite fun, but being the dorks we are, we forgot that there was no running water where we were, we didn't have a change of clothes, and we only had two towels. So, we drove home in our very very muddy clothes. When we got home, we were literally covered from head to toe. It took a long time to wash the mud off of us, and we were getting mud out of our hair and ears of weeks. But coming home like that made mom SO mad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;     Also, when Ashley and I tell these stories, mom gets mad. We just have too much fun recalling all the times we got into trouble doing stupid stuff that we would do all over again. I am pretty sure we will have great stories like this the rest of our lives. We like it that way. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This is the end of the blog. I will try to stay caught up better, since I really have no excuse to not be caught up. I hope you enjoyed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-5099975999749950916?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/5099975999749950916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/04/and-mom-was-so-mad.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5099975999749950916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5099975999749950916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/04/and-mom-was-so-mad.html' title='And mom was SO mad!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-8614357302814084922</id><published>2009-03-29T22:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T23:12:39.910-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Picking the apple</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Oh my God, how you make it hard&lt;br /&gt;Not to pick the apple&lt;br /&gt;Pick the apple&lt;br /&gt;And Lord how I long to give it back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82ctJPv_kGU"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82ctJPv_kGU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Listen to the song. Its a good one. It is called Forgive Me by Missy Higgins. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I won't write much on this blog because I think it is best to think about yourself. I just really like this song because it gets me thinking about past mistakes, forgiveness, and wishing we could take things back, give them back, or just forget them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;We have all made bad choices in the past. But if we could, would we really change the past? It could totally alter who we are today, and is that something that we would sacrifice if we had the chance? I don't know what I would do. I like to think that I wouldn't change the past since it has made me the person I am today. But who knows... since I can't do it, I guess I will never really know what I would do in the situation. But it is something to think about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It reminds me of an analogy I read in a book a while ago. It was a father talking to his daughter about our problems in life. He asked his daughter something along the lines of, "If we could put our problems into a paper bag, and throw that bag into a big pile with everyone else's problems. And then we could take our bag back, or take someone else's, what would you do?" We all have problems and we don't like having them. But I would take my own bag. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Anyway, that was a side note...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I am just glad that we have God's forgivness. We may have our faults and regret our pasts, but God loves us anyway. And that is so comforting. So, even though we find it hard not to pick the apple, and after we do, we just want more than anything to give it back, it doesn't matter. God loves us anyway, we can pick all the apples in the world, but if we believe in God, repent to Him and pray for help to turn from our bad behaviors, He will love us as if we are perfect, because in His eyes, we will be. What could be more comforting than that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Ok, that is all for tonight. I just had to write down what I was thinking before I forgot. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-8614357302814084922?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/8614357302814084922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-my-god-how-you-make-it-hard-not-to.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/8614357302814084922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/8614357302814084922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/03/oh-my-god-how-you-make-it-hard-not-to.html' title='Picking the apple'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-8268881678909343582</id><published>2009-03-22T18:32:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T10:51:14.938-05:00</updated><title type='text'>...and I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And I wish I could lay down beside you when the day is done&lt;br /&gt;And wake up to your face against the morning sun&lt;br /&gt;But just like everything I've ever known&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure you'll go one day&lt;br /&gt;So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away&lt;br /&gt;And I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=hiding%20my%20heart%20away&amp;amp;rls=com.microsoft:*:IE-SearchBox&amp;amp;oe=UTF-8&amp;amp;sourceid=ie7&amp;amp;rlz=1I7DKUS&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;sa=N&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;tab=wv#q=brandi+carlile+hiding+my+heart+away+&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;emb=0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=hiding%20my%20heart%20away&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;rls&lt;/span&gt;=com.&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;microsoft&lt;/span&gt;:*:IE-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;SearchBox&lt;/span&gt;&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;oe&lt;/span&gt;=&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;UTF&lt;/span&gt;-8&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;sourceid&lt;/span&gt;=&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;ie&lt;/span&gt;7&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;rlz&lt;/span&gt;=1I7&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;DKUS&lt;/span&gt;&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;ie&lt;/span&gt;=&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;UTF&lt;/span&gt;-8&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;sa&lt;/span&gt;=N&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;hl&lt;/span&gt;=en&amp;amp;tab=&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;wv&lt;/span&gt;#q=&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;brandi&lt;/span&gt;+&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;carlile&lt;/span&gt;+hiding+my+heart+away+&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;hl&lt;/span&gt;=en&amp;amp;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;emb&lt;/span&gt;=0&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are some lyrics and the music to one of my favorite Brandi &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Carlile&lt;/span&gt; songs, and after a comment from someone, I got to thinking about them.&lt;br /&gt;I have been thinking about the way we tend to hide our hearts and feelings away from so many people. And not just from strangers or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;acquaintances&lt;/span&gt;, but from our good friends as well.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder to myself often times, if I don't hide my heart, that someone will have a different view of me. And its sad that many people &lt;em&gt;will&lt;/em&gt; have a different view.&lt;br /&gt;I then got to thinking about who I might hide my heart from. I thought about who I care enough about to let them actually see me. Who do I think to myself "I don't care if they like me or not" or "I really want them to like me and love me, the way I do for them"... and what effects do those feelings have on the way we act toward them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is what I began to realize about myself-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I even try to hide my heart from God sometimes... Like that would work! I fear what I can't understand. God's love for me in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;incomprehensible&lt;/span&gt;. The fact that He loves me no matter what is in my past, present and future. Its just crazy to think about, and because I just can't understand that God, the maker of the universe and everything in it and outside of it, the perfect One, would love me... a failure and a loser, for everything I am... I try to hide my heart from what it doesn't understand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can understand people at least a little bit, but I still hide my hearts from them... why is that? Because they are not perfect, because they change, their views change, their love changes... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; why.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;There are very very few people that I let in almost completely. I can think of only two actually... and that is it. These people know the good, the bad, the ugly, the lies, the truth, the pain and everything else. I can't think of anything that I have wanted to lie to these people about. And I never worry about what they will think of me. It is great to have someone like that in my life. And even better, is that they know each other. It is awesome to sit with both of them and be able to talk about life and all that comes with it. I wouldn't trade their friendship for any other. I hope that everyone has someone in their life like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there are the people that I let in the front door, but once inside, the bedroom doors and closet doors remain closed. There are people who I love and talk to about a lot, but there are certain topics on which I will not touch. And those topics will not be touched out of fear that they will not like what is behind that door or what I have to say, and because of that, they will not like me or love me the way I do for them.&lt;br /&gt;I would say that most people in my life are this type of friend. And it is my own fear that does this, not the way they are. Because if we really think about it, if those people will change their view of us over something so earthly and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;minuscule&lt;/span&gt;, then how great of a friend were they to begin with? Its not hard to be a "friend" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;whos&lt;/span&gt; view of you will change so easily, it take someone special to love you for who you really are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, why do we hide our hearts and our feelings? Is our God not an emotional God? Would &lt;em&gt;He&lt;/em&gt; not understand? He declared David to be a man after His own heart. And David was one of the most emotional people ever! He did write the Psalms &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;after all&lt;/span&gt;... So what makes us think that we need to hide our hearts away? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I won't be that person to hide my heart and not open the doors. I want to feel free enough to let you in to my heart. That is my prayer, that I can work on this part of my life, and that I can be honest about my feelings with not only God, but with myself and others as well. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-8268881678909343582?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/8268881678909343582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/03/and-i-cant-spend-my-whole-life-hiding.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/8268881678909343582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/8268881678909343582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/03/and-i-cant-spend-my-whole-life-hiding.html' title='...and I can&apos;t spend my whole life hiding my heart away.'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-5677222179684308530</id><published>2009-03-15T23:15:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-15T23:45:30.315-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Two sides?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Do you ever think about the other side to the story? The fact that, no matter how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;adamant&lt;/span&gt; you are about something, there is always another side to it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Today I went to go see The Reader. It was an interesting movie... it was hard to sit through, not just for the awkward and very revealing sexual scenes, but also for the way you felt about a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;certain&lt;/span&gt; situation in the movie. I hope that if anyone reading this plans on seeing the movie nothing gets spoiled. Maybe just stop reading if that is the case!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;It was about a woman in her 30s who had an affair with a 15 or 16 year old boy. It was a very interesting relationship, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;disgusting&lt;/span&gt; but very loving at times... I don't even know, there are no words for how I was feeling about it. This woman worked for Hitler before this affair took place, but you don't know this until later. Long story short, she was a guard at Auschwitz during the war. Years later she was among a group that was put on trial. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Now I don't want to sound like a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Nazi&lt;/span&gt; or anything, and I hope no one takes this in the wrong way because I am in NO way agreeing with what happened in those camps or to the victims...&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The movie was very good at making you think about and realize that there are always two sides to consider. While this woman was on trial she was being asked a lot of questions about why she did this that or the other. She seams to have a screw or two loose (after all, she was sleeping with a &lt;em&gt;child&lt;/em&gt;), like she maybe doesn't understand what is going on or what she is saying. But as she is asked specific questions about her job as a guard, she gives answers like she is saying "Well, duh!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;She says how that is just what they did, no questions asked. She even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;asks&lt;/span&gt; the man who is questioning her, "Well, what would you do?" She basically did what she was told, she didn't ask questions, she just did what she had to do. She applied for the job, got it, did the work, and it resulted in her getting tried many years later. Although she may have done horrible things, she was not necesarily a horrible person. And seeing her get life in prison was heartbreaking. Even though she was partly responsible for many many peoples deaths, she was still a person who, once understood, you realize is not someone you want to put in jail. You kind of want to hug her and help her... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Moral of this thought process, there are two sides to everything. I think often times about why I don't want to see the other side. Basically, I like my side and I am sticking to it! ...not a good mentality to have all the time, but that is how we are. I want to start thinking about the other side, I don't want to be stuck in my ways and unable to understand people. There are some issues with which I will not budge, no matter how controvercial they may be. But there are also some issues with which I will not budge because I am selfish... I want to work on this and realize that I am not always right and there are people with ideas about things thay may not be my ideas, but that doesn't make them wrong. Easier said than done, but I will work on it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-5677222179684308530?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/5677222179684308530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-sides.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5677222179684308530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/5677222179684308530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-sides.html' title='Two sides?'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-3009661079177280246</id><published>2009-03-02T09:44:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T21:12:29.433-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Motives</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I went on a ski trip with the Salt and Light group from church not long ago. We went out to Spirit Mountain in Duluth. It was such a good time, I love snowboarding, and it was a great weekend for it. But the highlight for me was definitely our speaker. He was amazing and had such a great way of connecting with us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;One of the days his topic was on motives. He simply asked us what our motives are. If we think about it, we have motives for &lt;em&gt;everything&lt;/em&gt; we do... they may be selfish or selfless, obvious or not, or we may not even realize we have motives for something. But every little thing we do has a motive behind it. While I was listening to him I was really thinking about what my motives are. At work? At home? With other families? With friends?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He asked what our motives were for going on the ski trip, and I realized how selfish I am. My motives had nothing to do with getting closer to God, they were simply for myself. To make more friends, go snowboarding, and get away from work for a weekend. As I realized how selfish the ski trip motives were, I realized more about my other motives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I hate to admit it, but my motives are not in the right place much of the time. I don't want to go into detail about all the ways I need to improve my life, so I won't. But I will tell you this, after that weekend, I will be much more conscience of what my motives are behind my actions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I want my motives to be selfless, I am blessed in so many ways, so why do I need to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;selfish&lt;/span&gt;? This has been on my mind since the trip, and even just the week we have been back I have caught myself and had to rethink things. It feels good to catch myself before I act in a selfish way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I challenge you to think about your motives behind your actions. It can be hard to do, but when you change something about yourself for the better, no matter how small, it is well worth the work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-3009661079177280246?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/3009661079177280246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/03/motives.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3009661079177280246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3009661079177280246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/03/motives.html' title='Motives'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-2586226656226057882</id><published>2009-02-12T08:11:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T21:16:17.411-06:00</updated><title type='text'>News.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Last week has been quite the week for my family. It couldn't have gotten over fast enough, and it doesn't end just because its a new week... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Getting bad news is one of my least favorite things in the world. Especially when there is nothing you can do about it. When you have no words of comfort, when you are not with the person you want to be with, when something happens that is completely &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;irreversible&lt;/span&gt;... That kind of news sucks more than just about anything else. I got that kind of news this past week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I was in a staff meeting when I got a couple phone calls but couldn't answer them. Why is it that this news always comes at the most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;inopportune&lt;/span&gt; times? I called my mom back to see what was up, and she had let me know that her great-aunt died. My aunty Muriel. That was mostly hard for me because it was hard for my mom. I hate to see people hurting. It is worse than me hurting. And I do not like funerals at all... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Then she asked me if I talked to my sister, to which I said no, so she put her on the phone. This was when the news got really bad. Ashley told me she had a miscarriage. It just kills me. I can't even imagine the pain she must feel. She is married, but her husband is in Iraq, this was her first time being pregnant, and her husband was SO excited about it.... everyone was. I just wanted to be there to hold her and comfort her. But I was such a wreck that I would have done no good. And what do you say to that? I didn't know what to say, I just cried, a lot. Knowing that my sister is hurting is so hard for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;She is my best friend, and she has been my whole life. When she hurts I hurt. So right now I am hurting a lot, but she is hurting so much more. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I am writing this a week later that I found out because it is easier for me. Right now I ask for you prayers for my family. For Ashley and Tim, for my mom, for all the family that was so excited for them. It may be a week later, but it is still hard, and I suspect it will be for a while. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-2586226656226057882?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/2586226656226057882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/02/news.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2586226656226057882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/2586226656226057882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/02/news.html' title='News.'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-3477178482836943975</id><published>2009-02-08T17:14:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T19:50:00.205-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Murder at the Juice Joint</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This weekend my sister was having a Murder Mystery theme party. I have never been to one before so I was really looking forward to it. The theme of this one was Murder at the Juice Joint, it was based on the 20's prohibition, so we were partying in a "speakeasy."&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Here we have the "boys" of the Juice Joint.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SY9p01exsfI/AAAAAAAAACA/7bXu4s5koOE/s1600-h/juice+joint+boys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300571642868642290" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SY9p01exsfI/AAAAAAAAACA/7bXu4s5koOE/s400/juice+joint+boys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Left to right- Chief Cameron the Chief of Police, Mayor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Biggs&lt;/span&gt; who is none other but the mayor, Cy Ramsey who is Nick's henchman and the bouncer at the Juice Joint, Bernie Booze who is the bootlegger, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;South side&lt;/span&gt; Sal the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;south side&lt;/span&gt; mob boss, and Notorious Nick who is the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;north side&lt;/span&gt; mob boss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And here we have the ladies of the Juice Joint&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SY9qe8O6anI/AAAAAAAAACI/8Px_bXvf1gk/s1600-h/juice+joint+girls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300572366235658866" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SY9qe8O6anI/AAAAAAAAACI/8Px_bXvf1gk/s400/juice+joint+girls.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Left to right- P.I. Pinkerton the private investigator, Molly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Moll&lt;/span&gt; the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;hoochy&lt;/span&gt; gold digger who is Nick's lady, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Lieutenant&lt;/span&gt; Lucille the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;lieutenant&lt;/span&gt; on the police force, Kitty Cocktail is Cy's girlfriend and loudmouth, Rosie Marie the owner of the Juice Joint, and Cindy Butt the cigarette girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The night started out with socializing and getting to know the characters over dinner. Then we played out the night. Well, until someone was murdered that is! Notorious Nick was shot halfway through the night. Oh no! Poor guy, but my character was not in good with him, so I was secretly happy he died... After he died, we had to talk to the different people and try to figure out who may have done it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Only the murderer knows who they are. The goal is for everyone to figure out who did it, and for the murderer to cover his butt! The P.I.s job is to get info out of everyone and pin someone with the murder. By the end of the night everyone has lied to someone and been lied to about what they "know." Its really funny the stories that people come up with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The murderer ended up being the Chief of Police, with my tommy gun that was stolen from my warehouse in a police raid. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;It was really fun messing with people and trying to figure out who is lying to you and who is in good with who. Its almost like real life ;) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Everyone had a really great time playing their part, and we hope to do it again sometime soon! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-3477178482836943975?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/3477178482836943975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/02/murder-at-juice-joint.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3477178482836943975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3477178482836943975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/02/murder-at-juice-joint.html' title='Murder at the Juice Joint'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SY9p01exsfI/AAAAAAAAACA/7bXu4s5koOE/s72-c/juice+joint+boys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-7845375587932244954</id><published>2009-02-03T16:35:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T17:09:30.489-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Changes by David Bowie was stuck in my head today, which got me thinking about changes. Which made me want to blog about them. Its nothing too exciting, but it is something!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I am moving! (again) This will be my 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; move in about a year and half... And this won't be the last! I first moved to Rochester the summer before last. I moved from the cities into my dads house, in the middle of nowhere, also known as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Oronoco&lt;/span&gt;. It was good moving in with him and getting closer to him, which was a struggle when I lived my entire life in the cities. But that only lasted about a year, and I needed to get out. Not like it was a horrible experience, I just needed to be out of my parents house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;From there I moved into the Jensen's house. I had so much fun living with them! They treated me like family. (and still do) I stayed with them while I looked for roommates. It was so scary to think that I would have roommates that I was not related to or close to. But I found some and moved out of the Jensen's in less than 2 months.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;So, now I am with the roommates. I have been here since mid-November. It has been a good experience at times, and a bad one at times as well. Anyone who has had roommates can attest to that! But after 3 months I have decided to not stay here. So, at the end of February, I will be renting the basement of a fantastic family here in town. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Its crazy to think I will be packing up yet again and settling into another "home." This is not a permanent move, it will be for at least 6 months, but I don't know how much longer after that. Only God knows what is in store for me with this move or the one after it. I am looking forward to settling in to the new place in just a couple short weeks. And hopefully this will be a much more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;positive&lt;/span&gt; experience than this last place. But speaking of positive, lets here some not so positive roommate stories! I love to hear a good story about something I am going through! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Also, I have already told you all about my lovely sister Ashley and her baby. But just a couple days ago, she had to go into the doctor because of some issues. They basically told her before hand that she was either good to go, or not... I was very worried for her. I don't think I have prayed so much about anything in my life! I couldn't even imagine the pain she would feel if she lost the baby. She had to have been 7billion times more worried that I was. And the thought of her husband being in Iraq and not being able to be by her side at the doctor just hurt my heart. It all got me thinking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The idea of a baby growing inside of you, getting bigger until it is time to deliver is the most amazing thing in the world. I can't think of anything cooler than that. And actually having a baby!?!? Unbelievably awesome! I thought about it so much while waiting to hear back from Ash after her appointment. But she finally got back to me and all is well! I was so relieved. I have never stressed so much over anything. My prayer for her, the baby, and her husband is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;safety&lt;/span&gt;, comfort and the feeling of God's constant presence. I love them all so much!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And lastly, I have decided that Cambodia is a yes! I am going. I am going to save up money, pray about it a lot, and go. I can't think of a cooler way to spend that time than in Cambodia. So, pray for me as I try to get better control of my spending so I can afford this trip, and as I go through the training and such for this trip. I think this will be an amazing experience and I can't wait!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;That's it for now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-7845375587932244954?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/7845375587932244954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/02/changes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7845375587932244954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7845375587932244954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/02/changes.html' title='Changes'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-3042617497224054044</id><published>2009-01-27T20:23:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T20:28:26.255-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The baby!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SX_CWonFHpI/AAAAAAAAAB4/6NMcWB6moDs/s1600-h/Ashley%27s+baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296165380925234834" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 272px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SX_CWonFHpI/AAAAAAAAAB4/6NMcWB6moDs/s400/Ashley%27s+baby.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; Here is my future niece or nephew! Oh my goodness I am so excited. I had to share with you all! I literally get the biggest dorkiest smile on my face when I see or think about this baby!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-3042617497224054044?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/3042617497224054044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/baby.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3042617497224054044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/3042617497224054044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/baby.html' title='The baby!!!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SX_CWonFHpI/AAAAAAAAAB4/6NMcWB6moDs/s72-c/Ashley%27s+baby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-1340747907280510547</id><published>2009-01-27T08:37:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T10:27:55.300-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A plethora of stuff, and by that I mean 3 things...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;The other day I saw someone that I only see once a week at most usually, and it was great to see her. But it just so happened that the last two times I saw her, I was not having the best of days. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;At caribou last week I was sitting and reading when she walked in and asked how I was doing. I told her that my day was not going so well, but didn't get into details because the person she was meeting with walked in. Then the next time I saw her I was looking for my phone because I had misplaced it. So it was not the best time either as I was trying to get out the door but still had to find my phone. Then she asked me, "Whats going on? I think everytime I ask you how you are doing you are not doing well." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I felt bad that she thought that. And it got me thinking about what people think of me. I would hate for people to think that I am always crabby or having a bad day. I do have bad days, just like everyone else. And when someone asks me I &lt;em&gt;usually&lt;/em&gt; tell them the truth, even if it means saying I am feeling like crap. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;But anyway, I have been not having the best of days the past week or so. Its been roommate stuff, friends, family, boys, finances, time issues... But things are looking up and hopefully next time you see me and we talk I will have nothing but good stuff to talk about. I would like to only have great stuff to say about my life! And hopefully if I see you and ask how life is going for you, you will have some great stuff to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Secondly, I need to rant a little bit, you can skip this part if you want... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Is there something about young women that makes them uncapable of knowing &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt;? It makes me so mad when men especially think that young women are clueless about stuff. Here is why I am so stining upset- we have two swinging half doors going up in the cafe so that kids don't come wandering back behind the counter. But there is a problem, when the cafe was built, the walls that these doors are going on were not placed quite right, so the doors don't fit right either. When we were looking at the doors to put them on and saw this problem, I had a suggestion. 1, shim some of the wood off so that there is more space between the edges of the doors, or 2, do something with the hinges (you would have to see it to know what I mean) but both my ideas were shot down by a guy who basically said "Well _____ knows what he is talking about, I will ask him. But that won't be what he does."   ...  Well, person who said this to me, I was right! When _____ came in to look at the doors today, he said &lt;em&gt;exactly&lt;/em&gt; what I said! So, poo poo on you. Just because I am a young woman doesn't mean that I don't know what I am talking about. I may not be a carpenter, but I am not dumb. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And lastly, Sunday was a great day... well, after work anyway! It was a long day, but after work Veronica Ray and I went snowboarding. She had never gone before, so I gave her a lesson in rocking on the snow hill. Although she was not a rock star on the hill by the end of the day, she was a rock star off the hill (as always) I wish I had a picture for you, but we were having too much fun to take pictures. We will be going again soon, and hopefully we will make it off the bunny hill so she can get a taste of what it is really like. We were working on balance, turning and stopping though, next time, we will work on jumps and 360's! ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-1340747907280510547?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/1340747907280510547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/plethora-of-stuff-and-by-that-i-mean-3.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/1340747907280510547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/1340747907280510547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/plethora-of-stuff-and-by-that-i-mean-3.html' title='A plethora of stuff, and by that I mean 3 things...'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-7829550187089602904</id><published>2009-01-24T22:08:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-24T22:11:59.030-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cambodia!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, tonight I went to the Cambodia meeting...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Yep, I am going. (I think) As long as the details get worked out. I would be gone for about 28 days. Wow, long time. But how amazing would it be?!? I have to work out the details with work and such. I would be gone from about midway through July and be back midway through August. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;So, pray for me! This is a big decision and a big commitment. But one that I want really bad!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-7829550187089602904?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/7829550187089602904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/cambodia.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7829550187089602904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/7829550187089602904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/cambodia.html' title='Cambodia!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-1880041846080500027</id><published>2009-01-21T20:53:00.015-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-21T21:59:48.799-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Homesick is the worst of all the sicknesses!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;This normally doesn't happen to me, I love my home, and I love being able to go home. But I have never been one to miss it to the point where I become homesick. I will miss my family and a house in which I feel comfortable with everyone (most of the time anyway!) but I always know that it will be there for me when I need it or want it. So knowing that, I never lingered on the fact that I miss it deeply.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Today it caught up with me though. It was to the point of wanting to burst into tears at work. I even sent my mom a message at work and when she got back to me I had to turn around so no one in the cafe would see me welling up. Family is one of the most important things to me. Especially my family. I do care very much for the families that have adopted me into theirs, but it just isn't the same as my own. And even though I can't stand my family sometimes, they are it. I love them even when I don't like them. And I always will. There is nothing I can think of that would cause me to not love one of my family members.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Living where I do now has been very hard on me. It is the first time (that I remember) not living with a family. I lived with my dad when I was getting older, then with my mom when I was actually growing up, with my dad again when I needed a change after high school, and then with the Jensen's when I needed out. Now I am living with two roommates, and it is a major change. One that I thought I was ready for. But true be told, I am not ready to grow up sometimes. I still long for a mom to tell me to make my bed, clean my room, pick up my junk... I do those things on my own now, but I want a mom to make me do it sometimes. I want a mom to make me pb&amp;amp;j for lunch or get me medicine when I don't feel well. But I have to "put on my big girl panties" and do what I don't want to. It has been difficult to realize it, and very hard at times, but I will do what I have to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I want to give you a little taste of my family. My mom is Shelley and her husband is Dan. They are two pretty awesome people, and even more awesome when they are together. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfkdlgB56I/AAAAAAAAAAw/RM4ywwgEak0/s1600-h/mom+and+dan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293951083931101090" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfkdlgB56I/AAAAAAAAAAw/RM4ywwgEak0/s200/mom+and+dan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am glad my mom has found the one who is right for her. This is them in Napa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Then there is my sister Ashley, she is two years older than me and my best friend in the whole world. She is married to Tim who is so perfect for her. They are one of the cutest couples ever, and they are expecting! How exciting is that!? Her due date is Labor Day... of all days. They are both in the military, and he is currently in Iraq. They have a crazy life going on right now, but normal is not their thing. This is Christmas of this year. Just relaxing with my baby Teuila Belle. It was so great having Tim and Ashley with us that day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXflwcpMdOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/EiylfVxdpk8/s1600-h/teuila+ashley+tim.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293952507482764514" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXflwcpMdOI/AAAAAAAAAA4/EiylfVxdpk8/s200/teuila+ashley+tim.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Then I have April 18, Tim 16, Joe 15, Tom 13, Jim 12. They are some pretty super siblings. I could hug each one of them all day everyday. But they are not so into showing their love for each other as I might be! This is just April being April. She is so cute!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfqT6NTuMI/AAAAAAAAABA/Zjjd0X33vuw/s1600-h/april.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293957514760796354" style="WIDTH: 179px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfqT6NTuMI/AAAAAAAAABA/Zjjd0X33vuw/s200/april.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;   &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfql1M6GWI/AAAAAAAAABI/RiOfTvF07ko/s1600-h/n692236409_128321_3221.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfsqDPdoWI/AAAAAAAAABo/PXWqHIFCN3U/s1600-h/little+tim.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293960094166131042" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfsqDPdoWI/AAAAAAAAABo/PXWqHIFCN3U/s200/little+tim.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here is Tim and Teuila Belle. He is laughing because of a secret santa present he got. It was the Vikings cheerleaders calendar! We all found it very amusing, even my mom, which was surprise for us all! I think as soon as he got the present open we all looked to my mom to see what her reaction would be. We had a good time with that one!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfrFtJLXpI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kTk7temjmis/s1600-h/joe+me+ashley.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293958370247270034" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfrFtJLXpI/AAAAAAAAABQ/kTk7temjmis/s200/joe+me+ashley.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We laugh a lot! My mom said something funny then took a picture as we were still in shock that she said what she said! You put the three of us in a picture and this it typically what it looks like. But here is Joe and Ashley over Christmas break. Notice how we don't look alike at all! We are only half siblings, but still. Half, step, whatever! They are all my brothers and sisters anyway! Even if we don't resemble each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfrzVsKocI/AAAAAAAAABY/1N-V1Dx_FRo/s1600-h/tom.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293959154225553858" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfrzVsKocI/AAAAAAAAABY/1N-V1Dx_FRo/s200/tom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is Tommy boy fishing over the summer on our annual camping trip. I think he caught the smallest fish ever! It was like 2 inches long! Oh my goodness was that funny. We have a really great time together, of course except for when we are wanting to strangle each other... but usually we are having fun!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;And last but definitley not least, Jimmy. He has started asking us to call him James now, but whatever, he will always be a Jimmy. He was not feeling to well over Christmas, but he managed to smile in a picture. What a cutie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfsQaH_htI/AAAAAAAAABg/yQTIJc3E4M0/s1600-h/jim.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293959653632214738" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfsQaH_htI/AAAAAAAAABg/yQTIJc3E4M0/s200/jim.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;That is my family. I love them like crazy! And right now more than ever, I miss them so much. But soon I will get to see them and it will quench my homesickness for a while. But for now I just have to remember that they are my family even if they are not close by. And that I will get to see them soon, even if it doesn't seem soon enough. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-1880041846080500027?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/1880041846080500027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/homesick-is-worst-of-all-sicknesses.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/1880041846080500027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/1880041846080500027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/homesick-is-worst-of-all-sicknesses.html' title='Homesick is the worst of all the sicknesses!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/SXfkdlgB56I/AAAAAAAAAAw/RM4ywwgEak0/s72-c/mom+and+dan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-6720862400355983733</id><published>2009-01-16T11:31:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T12:31:18.143-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Shout out to my Rochester families</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="arial"&gt;The past week, excluding Monday (because I can't for the life of me remember what happened that day) I have been at someones house every night. I am so extremely blessed to have the families that I have here in Rochester. They let me come over and play with their kids, eat their food, nap on their couches, watch their tvs, and all that stuff. It is so great to know that when I need (or want) a place to go, I have not just one, but a number of places to choose from. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="Arial"&gt;Sunday after work, Audrey invited me over for lunch. Lunch turned into all day, and it was a super one at that! Audrey and I both work at CCC and I love seeing her smiling face everyday. We ate Noodles and played the Wii. Then after Maddy Ann went down for her happy nap and Ryan got up from his, we were able to sit and have a nice chat. It was a wonderful way to spend the afternoon. Oh yeah, then we went to see Marley and Me... I am pretty sure I cried for the last half hour of the movie... It was so good! &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="Arial"&gt;Then Tuesday I was able to spend the evening with Deanne and the kids. She is so good to me, we have wonderful talks about life, that night, it was about boys. Ugh, a much needed conversation. After pizza and talking we played Jillian Michaels' Wii game. It was SO fun, not only because Jillian is my favorite TBL trainer, but because I was winning! I am quite competitive by the way... &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="Arial"&gt;Then I was headed over to the Jensen's. They are the family that I spend the most time with here in Roch. (Thank you guys for taking such good care of me!) We watched Biggest Loser w/o Jennifer because she was out having a good time, but missing the worst scenario for an elimination ever! Wayne, Alex, Megan and I were on the edge of our seats (we were actually on the floor) during the weigh in. It is so fun to watch that show with them. Megan and I were holding hands and our breath waiting for the last one to weigh in! We were SO mad that it was between the youngest, heaviest kid, and the oldest contestant. What a bummer! I was sad to see grampa go home...&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="Arial"&gt;Wednesday for me is normally a work day and night. But my good friends/extra mom and dad from the cities were down here so Dennis could get knee surgery the next morning. So, I had someone work for me and spent the evening with them. But first, after work I always go home. (by that I mean the Jensen's) It's our Wednesday night thing. What could be better than spending time with two wonderful families in one day? That night Dennis, Diana and I ordered walleye sandwiches from the Canadian Honker, played phase 10 and watched American Idol. Now, I am not at all a fan of Idol, but the auditions are so funny. We were laughing so hard! And it took us forever to eat and play the game because we were too distracted by the bad singing. I couldn't help but picture myself up there in front of the judges being ridiculed because of my horrible singing voice! Thankfully, I can laugh at my own voice. The only time I am good, is when I am playing Rock Band, in the car (alone) or when my mom is singing too... she just might be worse than me! Its a stretch, but I think its a possibility!&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="Arial"&gt;Ok, yesterday was a snow day! I got to close up shop early and go home to hang out with everyone. Megan had a couple friends over and we watched Kit Kittredge, which was a super cute movie, and Alex made us really good bluberry muffins. He is such a good cook, he doesn't fill the house with smoke like me... I think I did it three times in the short time I lived with the Jensens... &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="Arial"&gt;And Thursday nights are the best night for tv ever! Can I get an amen?! My Name is Earl, Kath &amp;amp; Kim, The Office (woohoo!), then 30 Rock. Every Thursday I go over to the Ray's house to watch our shows, eat dinner, play, chat, and just be in good company. Last night Trevor, Phil and Josh were also there. We had fettuccine alfredo with garlic toast and salad, thanks Ron for a super dinner! I really love going over there, because it is a good time for Veronica and I to hang out and talk. She may only be 16, but she is one of my best friends. I can talk to her about anything that is going on in my life. And it seems there is always something to talk about. And last night was no exception. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;font face="Arial"&gt;So, that was my week, it isn't normally that crazy, but I like it that way. I can't think of a better way to spend a week than with so many people that I love. So, thank you Bibeau, Breitenbach, Jensen, Ludwig and Ray families for a wonderful, fun filled week! I am thankful to have you all, and all the other families here in Rochester, in my life. You make the time go faster and fill my life with smiles and laughter. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-6720862400355983733?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/6720862400355983733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/shout-out-to-my-rochester-families.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/6720862400355983733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/6720862400355983733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/shout-out-to-my-rochester-families.html' title='Shout out to my Rochester families'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2803619055374402693.post-4202305259177049655</id><published>2009-01-14T15:43:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T16:12:10.168-06:00</updated><title type='text'>First Post!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, my first post. How exciting right? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I have been following a number of blogs by people I know, and I have liked the idea of having one. But the people who's blogs I follow are typically married with kids or have interesting lives. So of course their blogs are fun to follow because they have great stories to tell. Now, my life, is not so exciting. Not that I don't love it, and enjoy it, I just don't think it is that exciting from the view of someone else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Here is the break down of my life-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I work at my church, its the best job I have had, I manage the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;commUnity&lt;/span&gt; cafe there. Other than that, I just hang out with my friends and families. That stuff is exciting to me, but from the outside, I think that it might look a little boring.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;So, I hope this blog is not too mundane for you!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Please enjoy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2803619055374402693-4202305259177049655?l=dsatriano.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/feeds/4202305259177049655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-post.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4202305259177049655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2803619055374402693/posts/default/4202305259177049655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dsatriano.blogspot.com/2009/01/first-post.html' title='First Post!'/><author><name>Diane</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09910178973977161305</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xdzcHzRtGdU/TDqMPamVgiI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ipsXyMcuhYs/S220/28275_442184510258_548315258_6291669_5158572_n-1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
