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	<title>Carneygirl's Weblog</title>
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	<description>A Slice of My Life</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Tue, 27 Nov 2007 18:19:31 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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		<title>Carneygirl's Weblog</title>
		<link>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com</link>
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		<title>A Rebel Against Gluttonous American Consumerism</title>
		<link>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/27/a-rebel-against-gluttonous-american-consumerism/</link>
		<comments>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/27/a-rebel-against-gluttonous-american-consumerism/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 27 Nov 2007 18:19:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>carneygirl</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[christmas]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[debt]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[humor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[philosophy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[shop]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[shopping]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/27/a-rebel-against-gluttonous-american-consumerism/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[A Rebel Against Gluttonous Christmas Consumerism I love the Christmas season! The cookie baking, Dean Martin&#8217;s Christmas Album, family gatherings, the lights-EVERYTHING!!! Except the insanity of American compulsion to purchase an inordinate amount of gifts, going into debt and forfieting the beauty of what this season really could be! It&#8217;s pathetic watching ADULTS buying the [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=carneygirl.wordpress.com&amp;blog=2046464&amp;post=11&amp;subd=carneygirl&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<dl>
<dt>A Rebel Against Gluttonous Christmas Consumerism </dt>
<dd>
<p class="content-wrapper">
<p class="bodytext">I love the Christmas season! The cookie baking, Dean Martin&#8217;s Christmas Album, family gatherings, the lights-EVERYTHING!!!</p>
<p>Except the insanity of American compulsion to purchase an inordinate amount of gifts, going into debt and forfieting the beauty of what this season really could be!</p>
</dd>
<dd>
<p class="content-wrapper">
<p class="bodytext">It&#8217;s pathetic watching ADULTS buying the media/retail lies that tell us:</p>
<p>If I don&#8217;t buy my kids the gifts they want: PS2/3 or 14, Whatever; an IPOD?? a car (with a bowa);  perhaps the goofy little red thing that giggles incessently; or the pressure of decorating my home to the nines with those crazy huge balloon characters! And, if I do not remain smiling throughout the whole time, I&#8217;m a scrooge, a poor sport, Grinch, etc!</p>
<p>Not to mention, the credit card companies are beefing up their big fat hairy lies they call &#8220;ad campaigns&#8221;. They&#8217;re reaching out and offering the &#8220;PRICELESS&#8221; moments in life that you can experience only if you use their stupid card&#8230;and pay for it for all of eternity!</p>
<p><em><strong>OH, and that idiotic commercial that says </strong></em></p>
</dd>
<dd>
<p class="content-wrapper">
<p class="bodytext"><em><strong>&#8220;Every kiss starts with Kay&#8230;&#8221;</strong></em></p>
<p>{{{GAG}}}</p>
<p>If my husband brought home a diamond somethin-something, I&#8217;d KNOW that:</p>
<p>1. He is cheating on me.</p>
<p>2. He wants to cheat on me.</p>
<p>3. I&#8217;m going to be working extra hours to PAY for the stupid piece of rock.</p>
<p>For the last few years, I&#8217;ve drastically cut back on my gift buying during the Christmas season. I&#8217;m a REBEL with a cause! This year, I didn&#8217;t even leave my home on &#8220;Black Friday&#8221;. I refused to even waste my gas on that day of Consumer Gluttony.</p>
<p>I am rebelling against the whole idea that somewhere, during the month of December<em>-which isn&#8217;t the month of Christ&#8217;s birth, duh!-</em>I have magically acquired more money than any other month of the year in order to prove my value as a parent, wife or human being!</p>
<p>I&#8217;ve got a car payment, house payment, bills as per normal.</p>
<p>My son wants to go paintballing next Saturday-$35.00</p>
<p>My other son wants Drivers Ed-$350.00</p>
<p>My van needs tires-$200.00</p>
<p>I&#8217;m helping with the Church holiday dinner, our family will spend time together and share a meal on Christmas, the annual family Christmas party is at my house, I&#8217;m hosting a cookie exchange and open house, my daughter and her husband are home from the Army.</p>
<p>I&#8217;m surrounded by love-PRICELESS.</p>
<p><a href="http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1141/is_11_41/ai_n8965056"><font color="#ff9900">FindArticles &#8211; A holiday without gifts brought Christmas joy</font></a><br />
National Catholic Reporter, Jan 14, 2005, by Jeannette Cooperman</p>
</dd>
</dl>
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			<media:title type="html">carneygirl</media:title>
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		<title>NaNoWriMo, yeah, yeah-wegottago!</title>
		<link>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/06/nanowrimo-yeah-yeah-wegottago/</link>
		<comments>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/06/nanowrimo-yeah-yeah-wegottago/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 06 Nov 2007 04:59:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>carneygirl</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[encouragement]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[friends]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fun]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[NaNoWriMo]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[writing]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/06/nanowrimo-yeah-yeah-wegottago/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Day 5. I&#8217;m getting consistently behind in my goals. I&#8217;m about 2,000 words short of being on the mark! This does NOT settle well with my perfectionistic, Type (lower case) A personality. I&#8217;ve found some great support, though, on this journey so far. Zaira, who happened upon my blog has already been an enthusiatic encourager! [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=carneygirl.wordpress.com&amp;blog=2046464&amp;post=10&amp;subd=carneygirl&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Day 5.</p>
<p>I&#8217;m getting consistently behind in my goals. I&#8217;m about 2,000 words short of being on the mark! This does NOT settle well with my perfectionistic, Type (lower case) A personality.</p>
<p>I&#8217;ve found some great support, though, on this journey so far.</p>
<p>Zaira, who happened upon my blog has already been an enthusiatic encourager! Thank you! I&#8217;ve read her NaNo excerpt-which she calls a stream of consciousness-but, I &#8220;got it&#8221;. She wrote about trying to get children who DO NOT want to wake up and go to school UP and READY for school. I don&#8217;t know if she even realized that her stream was exactly what a morning with children really is! One, great, big, long, exasperating sentence of frenetic energy and frustration! Well done.</p>
<p>Dixiegirl is my dear friend whose talent with words is intimidating, but, she&#8217;s way cool about it. Ultra educated, but without the arrogance. She writes and writes and writes. Complete sentences with tons of wonderful, challenging words! I love her, because, she motivates me to LEARN!</p>
<p>Well, I never expected to enjoy NaNo. It scared the dookie out of me at first. But, now? I&#8217;m absolutely LOVEEEEENG it!</p>
<p> Good luck to all who&#8217;s riding this NaNo train with me!</p>
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		<title>A Diva Moment</title>
		<link>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/05/a-diva-moment/</link>
		<comments>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/05/a-diva-moment/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 05 Nov 2007 07:33:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>carneygirl</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[best made shoes]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[birkenstock]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[christian]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[diva]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[women]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/05/a-diva-moment/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Last Tuesday started like any other day. Dog breath in my face and excruciating pain in my feet. Ugh, Plantar Fasciitis. Restoration Dayspa was scheduled to attend The Missouri Minister’s Wives Retreat the following weekend. I knew my feet wouldn’t hold out for two days of doing massage. They barely made it through a regular [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=carneygirl.wordpress.com&amp;blog=2046464&amp;post=9&amp;subd=carneygirl&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p class="content-wrapper"><font size="4" face="Bradley Hand ITC"><strong>Last Tuesday started like any other day. Dog breath in my face and excruciating pain in my feet. </strong></font></p>
<p><font size="4" face="Bradley Hand ITC"><strong>Ugh, Plantar Fasciitis. </strong></font></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>Restoration Dayspa was scheduled to attend The Missouri Minister’s Wives Retreat the following weekend. I knew my feet wouldn’t hold out for two days of doing massage. They barely made it through a regular day in the life. Something had to be done.</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>I Googled “best shoes for Plantar Fasciitis&#8221;. Birkenstock Shoes were right up there at the top of the list. So, I looked around my fair city in search of Birks. Nada. I went back to Googleland and found a place called “Best-Made Shoes” in Pittsburgh, PA.</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>I called and spoke to a wonderful sounding guy named Marc. <span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';">He explained the different types of Birkenstocks and recommended the “Boston”. Marc asked me what size I wore. I told him I had no idea and I’d call him back. </span></strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span><strong>I ran around my office trying to find someone who owned a pair of Birks and would let me measure their feet!<span> People kept looking at me funny and asking me w</span>hy I wanted to measure their feet if it was my size I was looking for. Helloooo! So I could get their Birk size according to their foot measurement, then measure mine and get the right size for me. Seemed plain enough…</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>Anyhoo, I found my girl, Christy: 9-½ inch foot/size 40 Birk. Me: a perfect “10”. I call Marc back. Size 41. I asked him if he ships the shoes today, when can I expect them. He tells me maybe Thursday or Friday.</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“Oh, no. I need them sooner than that.”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“When do you need them?”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“Well, tomorrow.”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“I can ship them overnight and they’ll get to you by 3PM tomorrow.”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“Make it happen.”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>Marc asks my color choice. I tell him I’d like the olive green. We finish the order and hang up. Then, I thought, “I can’t have olive green. That won’t match everything.” </strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>I call back. Marc answers the phone. </strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>”Hi, Marc?”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“Yes.”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“It’s me, Christine.”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“Oh, Hi.”<span> </span>(Like we’re old friends after 3 phone calls about the same pair of shoes! I love this guy!)</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“I want taupe.”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>“Sure thing. They’ll be there.”</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>Marc made it happen! My Birkenstocks, size 41 and taupe arrived Wednesday before 3PM. They were like heaven on my feet!</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>I felt like such the diva! It was intoxicatingly fun! I know it will probably never happen again, but, it was great, none the less!</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"><strong>I totally recommend at least one diva moment for everyone!</strong></span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:14pt;font-family:'Bradley Hand ITC';"></span></p>
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			<media:title type="html">carneygirl</media:title>
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		<title>Blended Family is an Oxymoron</title>
		<link>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/04/blended-family-is-an-oxymoron/</link>
		<comments>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/04/blended-family-is-an-oxymoron/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 04 Nov 2007 00:36:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>carneygirl</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Blended Family]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[children]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[humor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[marriage]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[stepchildren]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[stepmother]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[&#160; Blend: 1:To mix especially : to combine or associate so that the separate constituents or the line of demarcation cannot be distinguished 2: to prepare by thoroughly intermingling different varieties or grades As an intrinsive verb: 1 a: to mingle intimately or unobtrusively b: to combine into an integrated whole 2: to produce a [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=carneygirl.wordpress.com&amp;blog=2046464&amp;post=8&amp;subd=carneygirl&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<dd><a href="http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog/slideshow.html?p=761&amp;id=yGbpSvQydqUB8F2PI48J8GJDngo-" id="m761"></a><a href="http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog/slideshow.html?p=761&amp;id=yGbpSvQydqUB8F2PI48J8GJDngo-" id="m761"></p>
<p style="text-align:center;">&nbsp;</p>
<p><a href="http://blog.360.yahoo.com/blog/slideshow.html?p=761&amp;id=yGbpSvQydqUB8F2PI48J8GJDngo-" id="m761"></a></p>
<p></a></dd>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"><strong>Blend:</strong></span></span> </dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">1:To mix especially</span> <span class="sense_content"><strong>:</strong> <strong>to combine</strong> <strong>or associate so that the separate constituents or the line of demarcation cannot be distinguished</strong></span></span> </dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_label start">2</span><span class="sense_content"><strong>:</strong> to prepare by thoroughly intermingling different varieties or grades</span></span></span> </dt>
<dt>As an intrinsive verb:</dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="verb_class"></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_label start">1 a</span><span class="sense_content"><strong>:</strong> <strong>to mingle intimately</strong> or unobtrusively</span> <span class="sense_label">b</span><span class="sense_content"><strong>:</strong> to combine into an <strong>integrated whole</strong></span></span></span></span> </dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_label start">2</span><span class="sense_content"><strong>:</strong> <strong>to produce a harmonious effect</strong></span></span></span></span></span> </dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"><strong>Family:</strong></span></span></span></span></span> </dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">1.<strong> </strong>a <strong>group of individuals</strong> living under one roof and usually <strong>under one head</strong> </span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">2. a group of persons of <strong>common ancestry</strong> </span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">3. a people or <strong>group of peoples</strong> regarded as <strong>deriving from a common stock</strong></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">In 1975, some evil masterminds, probably a group-NO! A <em>family</em> of psychiatrists, psychologists and LISW&#8217;s had a brilliant idea. In order to maintain job security, they published the </span></span></span></span></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">original definition of &#8220;Blended Family&#8221; in the dictionary.</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"><strong>Blended Family:</strong> </span></span></span></span></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">A <strong>family</strong> that <strong>includes children</strong> of a previous marriage of one spouse or both.</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"><strong>Oxymoron:</strong> A combination of contradictory or incongruous words.</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">The term &#8220;blended family&#8221; is therefore an oxymoron. And here&#8217;s proof:</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">1. There&#8217;s NO blending of two families. No mixing constituents. There will ALWAYS be a line of demarcation. It&#8217;s kind of like vinegar and oil: mix it long and hard enough, you&#8217;ll get a vinegrette. But, you&#8217;ll always see the ingredients which will eventually separate to their sides of the bottle. Harmonious effect? Harmonious? HARMONY?!</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">2. Nobody&#8217;s related by a common ancestry. Well, not unless it&#8217;s just ickky. </span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">3. There&#8217;s NEVER &#8220;one head&#8221;. Well, there&#8217;s one head: each. On two separate people: the heads of each households living under the same roof. Anybody who says otherwise is either lying through their teeth, living in denial or plain old delusional. During the first year of wedded bliss, it&#8217;s usually the latter two. After that, it&#8217;s a boldfaced lie.</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">Here&#8217;s a few <em>Blended Family</em> definitions:</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">1. Hard work that will send the lighthearted into divorce court quicker than the kid can say, &#8220;You&#8217;re NOT my MOM!&#8221;</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">2.</span></span></span></span></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"> Acceptance of those things that will never change. Such as the way those other parents (oh, yes-PLURAL) parent. </span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">3. Coming to the harsh reality that your (perfectly wonderful) spouse was the other half of his/her idiot ex-wife/husband long enough to copulate, gestate, birth and claim children on their tax return.</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">4. The never ending explanation of why &#8220;his/her&#8221; kids get to do/get/have something and yours don&#8217;t/won&#8217;t/never will have.</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">5. Spending many years racking your brain for memories of, WHY you thought this was a GOOD idea. </span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">I&#8217;m a step mother. It ain&#8217;t pretty. It ain&#8217;t fun. It ain&#8217;t Brady.</span></span></span></span></span></dt>
<dt><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content">BUT, it&#8217;s working&#8230;</span></span></span></span></span><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_break"><span class="sense_content"></span></span></span></span></span></dt>
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		<title>Facing the Giant</title>
		<link>http://carneygirl.wordpress.com/2007/11/03/facing-the-giant/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 04:37:23 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>carneygirl</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[giant]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[journal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[NaNoWriMo]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[writing]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[NaNoWriMo. Up until November 1, 2007 at 12:01AM, I was excited and looking forward to participating in this years NaNo challenge. Since registering in October, I anticipated the moment I&#8217;d begin writing my epic(ish) novel(ish)! Then, Wednesday, it happened. The doorbell to my brain rang, and stupid me, I answered it. He was there. Looming over me. [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=carneygirl.wordpress.com&amp;blog=2046464&amp;post=5&amp;subd=carneygirl&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>NaNoWriMo.</p>
<p>Up until November 1, 2007 at 12:01AM, I was excited and looking forward to participating in this years NaNo challenge. Since registering in October, I anticipated the moment I&#8217;d begin writing my epic(ish) novel(ish)!</p>
<p>Then, Wednesday, it happened. The doorbell to my brain rang, and stupid me, I answered it.</p>
<p>He was there. Looming over me. The dark, foreboding giant that had followed me throughout my life.  He came in different shapes and sizes: my mother, teachers, my ex and others. I thought I&#8217;d lost him. Silly me.</p>
<p>His beady eyes locked with mine and his meaty claws wrapped themselves around my mind.</p>
<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t do this. Really, why are you trying something so far over your head? What will people think when you fail? You&#8217;ll never make 50,000 words. You&#8217;re going to make a fool out of yourself. Quit, now, before you prove to the world you&#8217;re a failure.&#8221;</p>
<p>Let me tell you, he almost had me. I was ready to drop everything.  I almost wrote my NaNo writing partner, Dixie, to tell her to drop me from the buddy list. That I just wasn&#8217;t going to be able to do it this year. Maybe next time around&#8230;Maybe next year&#8230;then, I&#8217;ll know what I&#8217;m doing-or you&#8217;ll have forgotten me, and it won&#8217;t matter. Then, I was going to close down my blog. I&#8217;m not a writer. I&#8217;m not a wordee. I use a thesaurus, for crying out loud! And a dictionary! Like, when Dixie wrote &#8220;verboten&#8221;-oh, hellllo?! Websters, thank you very much.</p>
<p>I don&#8217;t do anything very well-except birth, but, that&#8217;s been over for a looooong time.</p>
<p>On the evening of November 1st, I was in my van, running around like a crazy woman and suddenly a scripture came to mind: &#8220;And David spake to the men that stood by him, saying, What shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine, and taketh away the reproach from Israel? for who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?&#8221; (1Sam 17:26)</p>
<p>I am facing my own personal Goliath. That dirty, rotten scoundrel of an uncircumcised&#8230;well, you know&#8230;</p>
<p>That night at 11PM, and my mushy brain and I were struggling to form a complete sentence let alone one that made sense! And, plunk, plunk, plunk&#8230;</p>
<p>As of November 2, 2007:</p>
<p>2,144 words down. 47,856 words to go.</p>
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