<?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-6216618590228402136</id><updated>2012-02-16T17:17:40.169-08:00</updated><category term='Family'/><title type='text'>Pistal Packin' Mama</title><subtitle type='html'>I really am a pistal packin mama.  I picked this name because number 1, I love flowers(pistal is the female reproductive part of the flower in case you didn't know) and number 2, I'm a mama.  Also, when I was a little girl my dad would sing the song "Pistol Packing Mama" to my mother. If you're bored, find my blog and read about the dullness of my life and you will be uplifted.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6216618590228402136/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Suzanne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04193556343368079296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>3</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6216618590228402136.post-5469251116133978333</id><published>2009-09-01T17:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T18:12:27.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wicked</title><content type='html'>My two precious daughters are going to see "Wicked" this month.   I was invited of course, but I'm not going.  You see, a few and only a few people know this, but now everyone who reads this will know... okay.... here it goes, I'm scared of anything connected to the Wizard of Oz.  I was pressured by my brothers to watch it.  They thought they were doing the right thing by seeing that I was educated in this tradition, but they weren't.  Everything, from the tornado, ruby slippers, freaky munchkins, malevolent flying monkies, wicked witch, curled up toes, loud mouthed wizard, not to mention the worry of whether or not the three freakzoids half man, half lion, scarecrow, and a tin can would get all their thingeys and Dorothy make it back, literally unnerved the crap out of me.  I just don't get it.  The childhood fears continue to this day.  About the only thing I can tolerate about the movie without feeling nauseous is the song "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" when it's performed on American Idol.  I think that movie should be rated R.  I can watch Jason, Michael Myers, Scream, that Japenese monstery thing in that house, because I watched them as an adult.  I do have two precious daughters, and they may gripe about it a lot, but the fact is I screened everything before allowing them to watch anything that might affect their lives the way Wizard affected mine.  So what if all the 5th graders were watching Ace Ventura Pet Detective but, NOT MY GIRLS.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6216618590228402136-5469251116133978333?l=pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/feeds/5469251116133978333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/2009/09/wicked.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6216618590228402136/posts/default/5469251116133978333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6216618590228402136/posts/default/5469251116133978333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/2009/09/wicked.html' title='Wicked'/><author><name>Suzanne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04193556343368079296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6216618590228402136.post-7630497621697702876</id><published>2009-08-31T17:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T17:42:55.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Why? I don't know!</title><content type='html'>The highlight of my day at school is when the bell rings for students to be dismissed at the end of the day.  As students are walking down the hallway to their rides, one teacher will pick a student and then growl very loudly at the kid scaring the crap out of them.  I find this to be ECSTATICALLY FUNNY to see the kids jump and scream.  Why?  I don't know. I'm perverted that way.  In college every time it snowed, and one year it seemed like it snowed every week for a month, there were some very slick steps across from the lobby of my dorm.  I would stand at the window and watch every one fall on those steps.  HILARIOUS!  Why? I don't know.  Then I got married  and thought it would be funny to scare my husband when he came home by jumping out of the closet.  It was VERY FUNNY!  I would roll in the floor laughing.  Why?  I don't know.  That happened about 3 times until he got mad and threw his keys and made a dent in the wall of our apartment.  I know I'm not alone in enjoying other people's falling and being scared.  I just want to know why?  Maybe next week we can trip the kids as they're walking down the hall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6216618590228402136-7630497621697702876?l=pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/feeds/7630497621697702876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-i-dont-know.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6216618590228402136/posts/default/7630497621697702876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6216618590228402136/posts/default/7630497621697702876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-i-dont-know.html' title='Why? I don&apos;t know!'/><author><name>Suzanne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04193556343368079296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6216618590228402136.post-8907299626426779732</id><published>2009-08-22T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T08:13:47.750-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Family'/><title type='text'>Nephew's wedding</title><content type='html'>Last night I went to my nephew's wedding on a rooftop in downtown Nashville.  It was a perfect evening.  ONLY problem was a couple of airplanes crossing during ceremony drowning out the minister, not really a problem to many I'm sure.  The evening breeze, candlelight flickering, a great band and getting to sit on very comfy upholstered sofas made for a pleasant reception after vows were made. Did I mention the band was GREAT.  Nate's aunts (myself included) and his mother and grandmother made finger desserts for guests to enjoy there or take home.  I think they were a big hit.  Didn't think I'd cry (due to effects of antianxiety medication) but I did shed a few tears.  I love my family!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6216618590228402136-8907299626426779732?l=pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/feeds/8907299626426779732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/2009/08/nephews-wedding.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6216618590228402136/posts/default/8907299626426779732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6216618590228402136/posts/default/8907299626426779732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://pistalpackinmama.blogspot.com/2009/08/nephews-wedding.html' title='Nephew&apos;s wedding'/><author><name>Suzanne</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04193556343368079296</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
