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  1. <?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom="" xmlns:openSearch="" xmlns:blogger="" xmlns:georss="" xmlns:gd="" xmlns:thr="" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>,1999:blog-3964746701244692758</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Tue, 12 Apr 2016 03:47:08 +0000</lastBuildDate><category>Few pics for those of you dying to see what I look like</category><title>the Sophisticated Hippie</title><description></description><link></link><managingEditor>[email protected] (Jamie)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>227</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Fri, 14 Aug 2015 16:22:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2015-08-14T11:22:04.835-05:00</atom:updated><title>the First of Many Firsts</title><atom:summary type="text">I dropped my baby off at college today and left.  No, I realize it wasn&#39;t actual college but it sure felt like it.  It might as well have been college. Today is the first day of her days as a big girl.  She is no longer my little baby who only goes to &quot;school&quot; for a few hours.  No, now she&#39;s gone all day. That seems like such a simple sentence, but it&#39;s taking a while for it to really sink in.  </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Tue, 10 Feb 2015 21:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2015-08-14T09:14:21.550-05:00</atom:updated><title>Lessons on hospital living</title><atom:summary type="text">It&#39;s been a very long, crazy week and when I have long crazy weeks, I take to writing.   Normally, it&#39;s in a journal where I can pour out my thoughts and feelings. With this experience though, I feel as if I&#39;ve taken away some life lessons.  And these life lessons are the ones I can share. Hopefully, you don&#39;t already know them and never will, but if you find yourself in a situation where you&#39;re </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Thu, 03 Jul 2014 01:07:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-07-02T20:34:23.791-05:00</atom:updated><title>DIY Deodorant</title><atom:summary type="text">&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;
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  44. I have not
  45. used deodorant for over a year.  Say that again!?!  Maybe I should
  46. clarify that statement.  I have not used &quot;deodorant&quot; for over a
  47. year.  See </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Sun, 08 Jun 2014 14:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-06-08T09:51:47.915-05:00</atom:updated><title>Who needs water anyway?</title><atom:summary type="text">
  51. So I have a problem.  A problem keeping things alive.  More specifically plants.  I don&#39;t know what it is but I just cant keep them living.   No, I know exactly what it is.  I ignore them.  There I said it.  I ignore them and just let them go.  I like the idea of them.  They are pretty.  They smell good. It&#39;s the work that it takes to keep them that way that I can&#39;t handle.  Every year I </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Fri, 06 Jun 2014 19:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-06-06T15:08:39.582-05:00</atom:updated><title>be still</title><atom:summary type="text">
  59. A few months ago I got my second tattoo.  The words “be still” are now permanently
  60. inked on my right shoulder blade.  As I
  61. was telling the tattoo artist what I wanted, he verified that I didn’t want  “and know” to be part of the piece.  I told him that the two words were all that I
  62. needed.  Most people know this phrase as Psalm
  63. 46:10 that says “be still and know that I am God.”  This </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Mon, 18 Nov 2013 12:35:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-11-18T06:35:02.183-06:00</atom:updated><title>Truth.</title><atom:summary type="text">
  65. Have you ever had one of those conversations that after it&#39;s over, you think to yourself &quot;That was all truth!  Surely, anyone and everyone could benefit from that in some way.&quot;  I had one of these earlier this past week.  I was telling someone the story of my tattoo and what it means to me.  I won&#39;t get into the whole story here, but I&#39;ll tell you it&#39;s in memory of my the baby I lost eight </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Sun, 22 Sep 2013 14:06:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-09-22T09:41:54.531-05:00</atom:updated><title>Long Overdue: The Remodel</title><atom:summary type="text">This is a post that is long overdue.  Going back over the past posts, I realized that I promised to show ya&#39;ll the redo of our house after we bought it.  To recap, we repainted pretty much everything in the front rooms and the kitchen.  (Sorry to say but I don&#39;t think I have any before and afters of the kitchen.)  Also, we tore up all the carpeting and laid down vinyl flooring.  With Jarrod </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Fri, 30 Aug 2013 01:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2013-08-29T20:40:08.936-05:00</atom:updated><title>Raising Confidence</title><atom:summary type="text">    When I was in college, however many years ago that was (we don&#39;t have to get into numbers) I had an obsession with food.  I obsessed over the amount of fat, the number of calories, how much sugar was in it....  Every time I ate, I would immediately head to the gym to try to burn it off.  I became so obsessed with it that it just became easier not to eat it.  I never became anorexic.  I ate, </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Fri, 16 Nov 2012 03:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-15T21:09:14.522-06:00</atom:updated><title>Lesson&#39;s learned</title><atom:summary type="text">We are in the throws of a semi-renovation.  I say semi because we aren&#39;t tearing down any walls (yet).  But we are painting and putting in new flooring. For a couple that has never been able to paint even an inch of our own space, this has been a project to say the least.
  67. I guess we could have made it easier on ourselves by doing what most normal people do.  We could have stayed with mom while </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Sun, 11 Nov 2012 13:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-06-07T10:09:06.651-05:00</atom:updated><title>No Biting</title><atom:summary type="text">In yesterday&#39;s post, I hinted at some kind of something that has interfered with us happily moving into our new house.  I might have overstated it a bit.  It&#39;s really only a small thing and doesn&#39;t affect us actually getting into the house.  It&#39;s merely a nuisance for myself. 
  69. Let me back up and tell you what happened.
  71. Monday morning, we were sitting in the bank signing our mortgage papers.  I</atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Sat, 10 Nov 2012 07:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-10T01:00:26.370-06:00</atom:updated><title>Sold</title><atom:summary type="text">
  74. Hello blog world. This might possibly be one of my most favorite posts to write.  Why?  Because I&#39;m writing it on my computer in my very own house.  Yes ma&#39;am (or sir) we got ourselves a mortgage. 
  76. It&#39;s a cute little house.  Three bedroom, two bath, brick on two lots of land.  It&#39;s just the right size for us.  We are doing a small amount of work on it, so no pictures yet, but I&#39;m really </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Wed, 12 Sep 2012 13:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-10T01:17:05.111-06:00</atom:updated><title>Chapter Two</title><atom:summary type="text">
  82. Chapter two of my so called story involves me and Jarrod living out of a suitcase for many many months.  When we decided to move back &quot;home,&quot; our original plan was to rent a place.  No, I take that back, it was to live with my mom just until we could find a place to rent.  So, two months tops.  That was before we realized that there are no apartments to rent.  Okay, maybe a couple (as in 1 </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Fri, 07 Sep 2012 20:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-11-10T01:17:37.164-06:00</atom:updated><title>Nadir</title><atom:summary type="text">
  85. How do I even begin to start telling you about the past however many months it is now that we’ve been back in the good ‘ol state of Illinois? I guess the best place to start is where every good story starts: at the beginning. The beginning of 2012 started out like any other crazy year we’ve had since being married. I was working full time, Jarrod was working, and little Jesalyn was in day care</atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Fri, 07 Sep 2012 01:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-09-06T20:03:51.887-05:00</atom:updated><title>What dreams may come</title><atom:summary type="text">      I had forgotten how therapeutic it was to write until I wrote that last post, so alas, here I am again.  Screw the &quot;over your data usage&quot; mumbo jumbo. This girl is gonna write. 
  88.      So, last night I had a dream that I was racing...over bridges. Big, wobbly, bridges.  Now, if you don&#39;t know me, know that I&#39;m deathly afraid of heights. I mean terrified.  I have never set foot on a </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Sat, 01 Sep 2012 11:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-09-01T06:14:12.100-05:00</atom:updated><title>Gone, but not for good</title><atom:summary type="text">This long lost blog post is coming from my mommas rocking chair at 530 in the morning and being written on my cell phone.  Yes, this has been my life for the past 4 months.  Ugh.  The last four months. Where do I start?  A lot has happened.   So much, in fact, I probably should save that for another time.  But until then, know that I haven&#39;t left for good.  Believe it or not, I&#39;ve actually had </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-06-07T10:17:44.547-05:00</atom:updated><title>BGP</title><atom:summary type="text">So, we are in the throws of potty training.   Okay, so maybe not the throws, more like we are buckling down and getting serious with it.
  90. Jesalyn turned 2 in October.  We bought her a potty chair when she was like 18 months thinking we were going to get a one up on the dreaded potty training and have her done by the time she was two.  Basically what this translated to was: We bought the chair, </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Tue, 03 Jan 2012 13:12:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-06-07T10:10:39.808-05:00</atom:updated><title>One in a million</title><atom:summary type="text">So I must tell ya&#39;ll this story.  It&#39;s a tear jerker.
  92. Okay, so maybe not, but it made me cry.  But that&#39;s probably because it&#39;s about my child and ever since I became a mom I have become the biggest cry baby in the world.  This is your warning so that when you see me, you don&#39;t talk about babies growing up, lovey dovey stuff, or about the Cardinals winning the World Series.
  94.  I take that back, </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Mon, 02 Jan 2012 14:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-02T08:15:22.487-06:00</atom:updated><title>It&#39;s all in the shake</title><atom:summary type="text">Pretty much, every person reading this (a big thanks to all 3 of you) fit into one of two categories when something embarrassing happens to you and no one else sees it.  You either keep it to yourself or you let it out. 
  96. I am the latter.  So much so that if I don&#39;t tell someone, I&#39;m like a balloon stuck to a helium tank, I bust.  It just keeps nagging at me.  As soon as I spill the beans, the </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Mon, 02 Jan 2012 02:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-01-01T20:34:15.369-06:00</atom:updated><title>Frozen in Time</title><atom:summary type="text">Being a parent is some tough work.  If you have children you know this.  You also might know about the feeling you get when you realize that your child is growing up.  
  97. Why didn&#39;t you warn me of this?!?
  99. Every stage we have been through with Jesalyn has been our favorite.  Even the newborn nights when she screamed her little lungs off every. single. night.  Even that was perfect, because </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Sat, 24 Dec 2011 18:57:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-24T12:57:33.404-06:00</atom:updated><title>Comedian</title><atom:summary type="text">I&#39;ve said since the day she was born that Jesalyn was one with lots of character. And by character I mean personality.  She has been a little diva since she popped out of me.  And by &quot;popped&#39; I mean made me labor for 15 hours straight in not so fun pain. 
  101. But as she is getting older, she is really coming into her personality.  This kid is hillarious.  She makes us laugh every single day.  I&#39;ve </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Thu, 08 Dec 2011 02:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-12-07T20:25:03.085-06:00</atom:updated><title>Jesalyn</title><atom:summary type="text">So I&#39;ve been asked to give a little update on my baby girl.  It is actually perfect timing because I have pictures on my camera that need to be transferred over.  And they just happen to be mostly of little JP.  I&#39;ll make the talking short and just get right to the pictures (the only reason your really here anyway right?)
  104.  This was Thanksgiving morning.  We decided to let daddy sleep in.  Jes </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Wed, 30 Nov 2011 00:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2014-06-07T10:19:56.879-05:00</atom:updated><title>Feria #56</title><atom:summary type="text">So I did it.  Something I never thought I would do, mainly because I don&#39;t have the *pardon my language* balls to do it.  But I got desperate.  I had no choice.  So, I did what anyone in my position would do.  I went to Target, bought a box of color and dyed my own hair.
  106. Let&#39;s get this straight.  I have highlighted my hair several times.  Being a natural blond (yes, contrary to popular belief, </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Tue, 08 Nov 2011 11:18:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-11-08T05:18:13.065-06:00</atom:updated><title>Fog and patience</title><atom:summary type="text">Oh wow.  I am so ashamed to say that I have not blogged or posted anything for two months.  A lot has been going on my little corner of the world.  So much that I have just been kind of coasting through it all.  I haven&#39;t been sleeping all that well.  I normally wake up three or four times in the night, and get up for good at around 4am.  But by 8 that night, I&#39;m ready to crash. And then with </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Wed, 21 Sep 2011 11:20:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-09-21T06:20:04.351-05:00</atom:updated><title>Dining Room Table Discussion:  To tattle or not to tattle is the question</title><atom:summary type="text">The hubbs and I are in a bit of conundrum.  Well, he&#39;s not.  He knows that he&#39;s right and thinks I&#39;m being silly for for questioning.  I just want to make sure I&#39;m teaching my child correctly.  She is at the age now that things we do or say can/will start to shape and affect her.  It&#39;s not &quot;don&#39;t touch the stove because it&#39;s hot&quot; anymore.
  108. Let me back up a bit.  Several months ago we were </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">,</guid><pubDate>Fri, 16 Sep 2011 00:03:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2011-09-15T19:03:06.962-05:00</atom:updated><title>Pear Galette</title><atom:summary type="text">First off, for those of you that don&#39;t know what a galette is, let me give you the definition according to Wikipedia (the only place to get real, true information.  do you sense the sarcasm?). 
  110. &quot;Galette is a general term used in the French cuisine to designate various types of flat, round or freeform crusty cakes,[1] similar in concept to a Chinese bing. One notable type is the galette des Rois </atom:summary><link></link><author>[email protected] (Jamie)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="" url="" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>

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