<?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-2757519951576370748</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:44:19.414-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of the Crouch Girls</title><subtitle type='html'>random thoughts &amp; sisterly secrets .... rarely sane, but always true.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2757519951576370748.post-7056789070865415274</id><published>2007-10-25T16:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T17:00:12.669-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fight the Good Fight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;4 For the weapons of our warfare are not physical [weapons of flesh and blood], &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;but they are mighty before God for the overthrow and destruction of strongholds. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;5 [Inasmuch as we] refute arguments and theories and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;reasonings and every &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;proud and lofty thing that sets itself up against the [true] knowledge of God; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and we lead every thought and purpose away &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;captive into the &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;obedience of Christ (the Messiah, the Annointed One).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;II Corinthians 10:4,5&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The Everyday Life Bible (Amplified Version)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I don't know what I think of boundaries. I am cetain that there are things that I control by the decisions I make. I am certain the decisions I make affect those around me. I am certain that I need people, but not as much as I need MY God. I have responsibilities. I accept them. I have the power within myself to overcome. That power comes from MY Lord and Saviour. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Kristi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-7056789070865415274?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/7056789070865415274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=7056789070865415274' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/7056789070865415274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/7056789070865415274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/10/fight-good-fight.html' title='Fight the Good Fight'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2757519951576370748.post-1370089985461339382</id><published>2007-10-14T06:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T06:26:17.350-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boundaries, a book to re-read</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;My sister has come a long way in the last little bit.  I am proud of her determination to keep her boys on a tight schedule, especially on school nights.  The only problem is...I miss my sister tremendously.  We both have schedules that are hard to incorporate together during the daylight hours so when I'd love to be sitting on her couch doing nothing but being next to her, she's diligently following her evening routine in order to give her boys the stability they need.  And when I'd love her to be sitting on my couch next to me doing nothing, while the boys run amuck, that cuts into her evening routine and her self worth.  I do not like the situation that has been created between 2210 Savannah Dr and 2309 Ragland Rd, but as it turns out, I have no control over that.  My heart will continue to be pulled southward, longing for the security, the friendship that I now miss so much.  Boundaries, Leann, boundaries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leann&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-1370089985461339382?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/1370089985461339382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=1370089985461339382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/1370089985461339382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/1370089985461339382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/10/boundaries-book-to-re-read.html' title='Boundaries, a book to re-read'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2757519951576370748.post-4254959467136775351</id><published>2007-09-29T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T21:51:23.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>On August 24 Ortho said I could remove the splint that I had worn for over 7 weeks. Woo Hoo! The fracture was healed enough that reinjury was not a huge issue. However, with a 3 pound lifting restriction I still had some weeks ahead of me. I was still having so much pain. It was thought to be more nerve related so I took a dose of steroids for a week and continued with therapy. I also recently got issued a TENS unit (it sends electrical impulses to the nerves around the injury) and that has helped tremendously. I still go to Occupational Therapy twice a week (I'm suppose to anyway). My therapist, Patti, ROCKS! Next week I get to test my grip strength again. This is one way to determine when I can be "released". The past 3 months have been quite a test. And, even though I have been able to use my arm more over the past month since removing the splint, I know that I have a little ways to go before a full recovery. The most important thing .......... my boys are home with me and we get through each day the best we can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-4254959467136775351?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/4254959467136775351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=4254959467136775351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/4254959467136775351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/4254959467136775351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/09/on-august-24-ortho-said-i-could-remove.html' title='Update'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2757519951576370748.post-5079956134356612361</id><published>2007-08-25T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-29T21:24:24.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Lessons, Part II</title><content type='html'>26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will this matter?" &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{&lt;em&gt;It won't, will it ?}&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Always choose life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Forgive everyone everything. &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{&lt;em&gt;Everything?}&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. What other people think of you is none of your business. &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{&lt;em&gt;This is tough. I recently found out how someone felt about me and, now, I am having a hard time forgetting}&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{This is good ...... right?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{I am so not good at staying in touch.}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;33. Believe in miracles.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{Humbling, isn't it?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{Or crazier, huh, T?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37. Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{Are our memories good enough?}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Read the Psalms. They cover every human emotion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Get outside every day. &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Miracles are waiting everywhere&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{Wow ... that's all I can say.}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{Check ..... Check ..... &amp;amp; Check}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;44. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;45. The best is yet to come.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;46. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up. &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;{Though I don't always practice it, this is a lesson I learned from my mother.}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;48. If you don't ask, you don't get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;49. Yield.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;50. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-5079956134356612361?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/5079956134356612361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=5079956134356612361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/5079956134356612361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/5079956134356612361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/08/life-lessons-part-ii.html' title='Life Lessons, Part II'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2757519951576370748.post-8688876539592679667</id><published>2007-08-25T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T13:13:03.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life Lessons, Part I</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;4. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;5. Pay off your credit cards every month.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;13. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;is all about.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;God never blinks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;16. Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;17. You can get through anything if you stay put in today. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;18. A writer writes. If you want to be a writer, write.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;&amp; no one else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;special occasion. Today is special.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;24. The most important sex organ is the brain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;by Regina Brett, Cleveland, OHIO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Kristi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-8688876539592679667?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/8688876539592679667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=8688876539592679667' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/8688876539592679667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/8688876539592679667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/08/life-lessons-part-i.html' title='Life Lessons, Part I'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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-2757519951576370748.post-3481271876354269207</id><published>2007-08-22T05:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-22T17:51:18.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ONE of my Obsessions</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255)"&gt;I have an obsession. Actually I have several, but I'm only telling you about one right now. My children and my husband hate it. My sister loves it about me. My mother thinks it's inappropriate. My Daddy is indifferent. I know a lot of people suffer with this. I am a&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;ZIT POPPER! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255)"&gt;If I see a zit on someone I know, I soo want to pop it and will probably ask if I can. I think it's the breaking thru the skin that I like. Ya know, when the pressure builds up behind the zit? I don't like to use my fingernails, because they cut the skin and you don't get a good &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;POP!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255)"&gt; My family (Jay and the girls) actually run from me. My sister calls me over to pop hers. I've considered therapy for it, but I have so many other things that my therapist wants to discuss, I'm not sure we'll ever get to it. But the time I'm out of therapy, that might be my only vice! :) So I tell you all of this to prepare you for what happened to me on Sunday afternoon at church. My sister and I were working in our classroom at church when I heard a few facial areas calling my name. So I popped a few successfully, but not that great, big &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;POP&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(255,0,0)"&gt;&lt;span style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255)"&gt;, wow, I'm satisfied, I've done my job, kinda work. I spotted another on her lower cheek, close to her lip. As I squeezed, I could see the core rising to the top of the skin. I knew this on was gonna be a good one. I had squeezed as hard as I could, but it didn't pop, so I repositioned my fingers, planted my feet, and put all my strength into my two fingers, squeezed with all my might, AND..&lt;br /&gt;it squirted me right in the glasses! As I saw it coming, I kept squeezing, but closed my eyes. Now that folks, is sickness. Kris and I laughed so hard I thought we might fall down. Believe it or not, I don't recall that that has ever happened to me before. This has not deterred me, so if you need a CHEAP "facial", CALL ME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leann&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/2757519951576370748-3481271876354269207?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/3481271876354269207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=3481271876354269207' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/3481271876354269207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/3481271876354269207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/08/i-have-obsession.html' title='ONE of my Obsessions'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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-2757519951576370748.post-121954388199282108</id><published>2007-08-11T14:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-11T14:35:36.761-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Domesticated bliss IS possible ...... after you've premedicated yourself!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;I read this on a card last night ............. about peed my pants. I certainly know many of you can relate. Not that I should be talking &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;relationships&lt;/span&gt;, but .....................&lt;br /&gt;I saw an Oprah rerun with Garth Brooks &amp; Trisha Yearwood just a couple months into their new &lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;union&lt;/span&gt;. It was truly &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;amazing&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;uplifting&lt;/span&gt;. When ask "How can you love someone with all you have, have children, stay married four 14 years and then just say "we're done"?" Now, any of you that know me know that hit me right between the eyes. Garth's response? He said that when he met Sandy they had 2 things in common 1)they were broke &amp;amp; 2)they had the future in front of them. &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;WOW!&lt;/span&gt; There are many marriages that start out that way. While marriage counseling is the wave of the future (some ministers even REQUIRE before they will marry a couple), it was not something couples did 15, 20 years ago. What a mistake! Suppose you find yourself in such a marriage. What do you do? You try to &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;repair&lt;/span&gt; it. By "fixing" yourself first. Once you've accomplished that, you ask your mate to &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;change&lt;/span&gt; what needs to be changed. Then you take these two "new" people and you &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;make it work&lt;/span&gt;. And, if something fails, you &lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;pray&lt;/span&gt; that God will change whose heart needs to be changed. Then if that cannot happen you protect yourself ......... and your children. And you continue to pray to God for wisdom and strength. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;How's that for deep, sis?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;Kristi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-121954388199282108?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/121954388199282108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=121954388199282108' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/121954388199282108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/121954388199282108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/08/domesticated-bliss-is-possible-after.html' title='Domesticated bliss IS possible ...... after you&apos;ve premedicated yourself!'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2757519951576370748.post-7237284084285242165</id><published>2007-08-10T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T00:35:08.254-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't stop my mind</title><content type='html'>It is 2:07 am on Friday, August 10 and my head is swimming.  Now for those of you who know me, that's probably not too hard to believe.  I have been meaning to post for weeks!  I have enough topics that I want to talk about to keep this thing going on into the fall.  Right now though, I am wondering why I can't just walk into my bathroom, wash my face, and GO TO BED!  Kaylee and I are leaving tomorrow with the youth group for a summer retreat.  I am not packed.  Hannah is not packed to go to grandma's house.  I have not made firm arrangements for someone to care for the animals.  I can only hope that we both have clean clothes.  I am listening to Acappella.  My favorite album is Acappella Southern.  (that's what is playing now)  I put this CD in after spending some time on the FBI website.  Don't ask me how I got there, but once I did, I couldn't get off of the site.  It is unthinkable what some people do.  It's sickening!  There are unsolved murder cases from the 1980's!  Some of the victims have never been identified.  How can someone just be no one?  I am deeply troubled about this.  Most of you are saying, "why do you read that stuff dork-o?"  And I respond...I DON'T KNOW!!  I AM CRAZY!!  I sound like my friend, Melanie.  She always calls herself nutso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I better end this on a lighter note.  The girls and I just returned from South Padre Island.  W e went with my best friend, Angie, and her family.  It was a blast!  I had never been there before.  We stayed in a condo on the beach.  It was beautiful!  I was completely mesmerized by the surf and the sand and the sun.  We took sand castle building lessons on Monday.  That was WAY more fun than I thought it would be.  Sandy Feet (sandyfeet.com) taught us all how to construct a kingdom.  It is amazing to me how a big pile of sand (not to be confused with dirt)  shaped into different sized cylinder shapes can be carved into something recognizable.  This woman is awesome!  Check-out her website.  Our picture and castle will be posted sometime.  It was a neat to see the kids all work together thru each step of the process.  Blake (14), Kaylee (13), Hunter (13), Ang (?), and me (25) HA!HA!  were covered in sand and sweat by the time our 2 hours was up.  I'll never read a book at the beach again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few heavier things on my mind, but with the chance that my mother might read this blog, I'll save them for another time.  She says I share WAY TOO MUCH personal stuff anyway. Leann&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-7237284084285242165?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/7237284084285242165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=7237284084285242165' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/7237284084285242165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/7237284084285242165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/08/cant-stop-my-mind.html' title='Can&apos;t stop my mind'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2757519951576370748.post-2188832276066937632</id><published>2007-07-27T19:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T07:05:26.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The other side of the story ..............</title><content type='html'>So, I was laying (or is it lying) in between 2 really cute boys on the eve of July 2 when I hear what is commonly known as the "cingular sound". Not wanting to miss a late night invitation, I hurried to reach my phone. The floor reached me much quicker than I expected (can I say my bed is reeeaallly tall?). Well, I quickly checked the text message from Leann that said "Long day. Feel like crap. Can you take the boys in the morning?" Then I thought 'Owwww!' I got up to go to the bathroom because once you are awake at night that is just what you do, right? When I tried to wipe (sorry 'bout the visual) I realized there was a real problem. I felt like I was gonna pass out. I was afraid to hollar out for Dylan for fear I would wake up Preston. Truth be told I didn't want him to have to see me in my lime green sports bra (again, sorry 'bout the visual). So, I called my sister ...... 'Actually sis, I won't be able to take the boys in the morning. By the way, can you stop by on your way home?' After we hung up I heard sirens. Now surely she didn't call 911 ????!!!! She arrived shortly, without any civil servants. We talked. We called our paramedic friend who advised an ER visit. And off we went to Mansfield Methodist ER. What great people!&lt;br /&gt;I went for an xray which was so very painful. When the doctor came in he said "Well, you broke your arm at the proximal radial head." And ........ Leann laughed - hysterically, might I add. As tired as she was, she came to my house and, not getting to sleep before 4 am, took the boys to school the next morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since then the boys have been at grandma &amp; papa's. They come stay with me on the weekends when I don't have to get them up &amp;amp; ready. Each day holds little successes (like the day I could tie my shoes -it took 2 weeks! - by myself). I look forward to the day that things get back to "our" normal. Until then ......... Mom &amp; Dad , thanks again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-2188832276066937632?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/2188832276066937632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=2188832276066937632' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/2188832276066937632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/2188832276066937632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/07/other-side-of-story.html' title='The other side of the story ..............'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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-2757519951576370748.post-7913601558252907796</id><published>2007-07-18T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-18T20:04:18.898-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's NOT my fault!</title><content type='html'>Well, hello.  This blogging thing seemed like a good idea at the time.  I just can't remember to sit down at the computer and do it.  I'm just barely able to text message in a timely manner.    Besides, we have been very busy these last 3 weeks.  Oh!  Where do I begin.....&lt;br /&gt;I worked at the hospital on Saturday, June 30.  It was a long day of breastfeeding (not me silly).  In my job, I teach and assist new moms with breastfeeding their babies.  Some moms just need a little encouragement.  While others need a babysitter for each feeding!  My day topped off with 12+ hours.  Since I was way too tired to chart, I decided I would come back on Sunday.  Well, Sunday afternoon quickly turned into Sunday evening and I didn't arrive at the hospital until 7:30. Kristi and I have a system to getting the younger kids to daycare each day.  I take.  Well, since I didn't clock out until 11:30, I texted her to ask if she would take on Monday morning.  Now she and the boys are usually sleeping very soundly by this hour, so I didn't expect her to respond to my text until morning.  Imagine my surprise when my phone rang and it was her.  My 1st words were, "Why are you calling me"?  Her 1st words were, "I think I fell off of my bed".  WHAT?!  She said she was scooting off the end of the bed to get her phone and just thought she had more bed left than she did.   At first, I laughed.  Then I really got concerned because she sounded so scared and said she was in a lot of pain.  I drove over to her house and when I walked in I was utterly speechless!  The chick had on a lime green sports bra and boy shorts to match!  (so glad we didn't have to call 911.)  Not only was a floored by her injury, but also her night clothes!  Well, long story short, I took her to the ER (mom and daddy came over to stay w/the boys)  only to find out that she had broken her elbow.  LOTS of pain!!  She saw the ortho on Thursday of that week and now has a removeable splint and PT twice a week.  She expects to be in the splint probably 4 more weeks.  She's been told NOT to bend her elbow or move her fingers...RIGHT!  Did I mention it's her right arm?  No driving, no ledgible writing, and no lifting, carrying, etc.  The boys are now with mom and dad.  Preston told me last night, "Auntie, I don't want to go to my new house".  Who wouldn't love to live with Grandma??!!&lt;br /&gt;Things are starting to settle down a bit and she's feeling better each day.  It's still just one day at  a time though.  Keep her in your tho'ts and prayers.&lt;br /&gt;And just so there is no misunderstanding....It's not my fault.  She should keep her phone closer to her at night!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leann&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-7913601558252907796?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/7913601558252907796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=7913601558252907796' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/7913601558252907796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/7913601558252907796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/07/its-not-my-fault.html' title='It&apos;s NOT my fault!'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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-2757519951576370748.post-7315606336920555988</id><published>2007-07-01T12:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-01T13:05:46.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My boys are back</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Many of you know that Dylan has been away from home for 5 weeks and Preston joined him the last 2 weeks. Well, they came home last night and my heart is filled with joy. They are truly the light of my life. They came with many stories to tell including the whereabouts of Preston's "nonnie" - the Winnie-the-Pooh blanket that was given to Dylan, before his birth, by his Aunt Tammie that Preston has slept with practically every night since he was just a few months old (he will be 4 in 2 weeks!). It seems as if it was left at a hotel in Branson, MO after a trip with their father. Now, all of you fathers are saying "what's the big deal?" and you mothers are saying "what the #&amp;*%^@*#%!?" I am truly disappointed to say the least. I think the message I left on their fathers voicemail probably gets the point across.&lt;br /&gt;The boys arrived last night around 5:30 pm. My MAGNIFICENT brother-in-law grilled steaks for us. It was such a joy to share last night with Leann and her family. Wait, did I say Leann? She was actually at the hospital helping babies "nipple" and, while that truly sounds exciting, I do believe that me &amp;amp; Jay had more fun eating dinner with 4 obnoxious children. Preston playing with his food. Kaylee burping. Dylan having a melt down after Kaylee spilled her Dr.Pepper on him. Hannah imitating her mother getting food stuck in her gastric band. FUN, I tell you !&lt;br /&gt;Leann did get home in time for dessert- anyone surprised? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;We spent a little more time there before our trek home (down the street). Leann ask me to talk with boys about flash flooding before bed, due to all the rain. So, once we were settled for bed - my bed, of course - I began what I thought would be a simple conversation. Fast forward 45 minutes. Dylan wants to move because he doesn't want water to get in our house. Preston just wants to ask God for it to rain a little bit, but not a lot. We of course need to talk about Noah and how we don't need to build an ark. How that the creek behind our house WILL go down after it stops raining. We have to talk about the children that have drown due to the storms and AGAIN what we will do when the water does get into our house. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Thank you, Auntie. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330033;"&gt;Kristi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-7315606336920555988?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/7315606336920555988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=7315606336920555988' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/7315606336920555988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/7315606336920555988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-boys-are-back.html' title='My boys are back'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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-2757519951576370748.post-3489188925406090511</id><published>2007-06-27T16:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T16:52:19.910-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something to Laugh About</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;I was driving home from work today and I saw a man with a canoe in the bed of his pick-up truck. (lots of rain around here lately)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;Last night I read in People about a triple amputee named Kellie LIM. (I'm sorry but I find this a bit humorous)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;The subtitle on the news read SUMMER STORMS &amp;amp; in small letters below, it read Jay Gromsley. My first thought? Summer is a strange name for a male reporter. I was humored when I realized that he wasn't going to end with "For NBC 5, this is Summer Storms reporting."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#003300;"&gt;Kristi&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/2757519951576370748-3489188925406090511?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/3489188925406090511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=3489188925406090511' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/3489188925406090511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/3489188925406090511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/06/something-to-laugh-about.html' title='Something to Laugh About'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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-2757519951576370748.post-2211579282013441075</id><published>2007-06-23T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-23T14:16:42.681-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Late...as usual.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;Pushy, my sister is not.  As a matter of fact, I had no idea she was still waiting on me to blog. I was trying to update my checkbook, but my bank's computer system is down, so instead of attempting to complete another task on my ever growing "To Do" list, I started surfing.  The blog was her idea, but I do kinda like it.  Journaling is still a great way for me to express my feelings or just to get something off my chest.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt; So....here goes....  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;One of my favorite people is my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;sister&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. ( Yes, I know she blogged about me first, but this is not because I feel obligated to reciprocate).  She is truly a joy in my life.  She has given me 2 precious nephews.  My favorite is Dylan, but please don't tell Preston.  Kris (what I always call her) has always been in my shadow.  I am the oldest, but she is the &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;strongest&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.  I'm the loud, "sure I'll do it", "never met a stranger" kinda girl.  She is the quiet,  "I only need a few people in my inner circle", "now let me think this through" kinda girl.  I admire her work ethic, the way she pushes thru hard times, and how she makes it on her own.  We have a very unique relationship.  I boss her around, tell her how to raise the boys, how to handle her problems, who to be friends with, what to say in that situation or this situation, and what she shouldn't have spent money on.  In turn, she is strong and confident enough to say "yes sister" then still do what she knows is best.  She is a working mom with all the sames responsibilities that I have, but she does it all by herself.  She is a single mom.  The only thing the weekend means is that she doesn't have to clock in.  Her work never stops.  In the dark of the night, she can't "unload emotionally" on anyone.  She is remarkable.  She is my &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;sister&lt;/strong&gt;&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/2757519951576370748-2211579282013441075?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/2211579282013441075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=2211579282013441075' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/2211579282013441075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/2211579282013441075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/06/lateas-usual.html' title='Late...as usual.'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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-2757519951576370748.post-9051668376617474684</id><published>2007-06-07T16:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-07T16:57:57.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Waiting ...........</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;It's been 6 days and the other half of my "team" hasn't come through. She is currently on her way to a scrapbooking retreat. What the ?? Sitting around all weekend cutting &amp;amp; cropping pictures? Seriously! Sounds fun, doesn't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2757519951576370748-9051668376617474684?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/9051668376617474684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=9051668376617474684' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/9051668376617474684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/9051668376617474684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/06/still-waiting.html' title='Still Waiting ...........'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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-2757519951576370748.post-8494825603815218149</id><published>2007-06-01T17:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-01T17:47:08.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Gentle ......... It's My First Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"&gt;Well, this is my first time to .......... blog. I want to introduce my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;older&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; sister. Her name is Leann. You know the saying "age before beauty"? Well, she'd be the age part. She is 36 and, well ... I'm &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;just&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; 34 (at least for 6 more days!). She is not just my sister, but also my best friend. We get along so well that people will sometimes ask us if we ever fight. To be honest, I think we have had more conflict in the past year than we probably ever have (except maybe when, out of obligation, she had to choose me as her maid of honor). You know what, though? At the end of the day she is still my sister. Family is great isn't it?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#003300;"&gt;My sister has taught me so much. She gives great parenting advice. Like the time she &amp;amp; Jay (my MAGNIFICENT brother-in-law) told me to beat the kids every day whether they deserve it or not. Now, for any social worker out there -because that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;previous&lt;/span&gt; remark is a joke -, one look at our kids and you will know they've never been beaten or hit or put in time out for that matter. She also gives great nutritional advice, like, "do you want vanilla or chocolate?" She is always looking out for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;every ones&lt;/span&gt; best interest. Which leads me to say that she needs that t-shirt that reads "Help! Stop me before I volunteer again." She is ........... involved to say the least. She teaches bible school, takes neighborhood kids to school, attends her girls sporting events, cooks dinner for those in need, works in the education department at a local hospital, and &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; comes to my rescue. She has a contagious personality. Someone once called her "boisterous" - I prefer "bubbly". She gives great hugs and makes delicious tortilla soup. She is super special and I am so happy that God gave her to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;Kristi&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/2757519951576370748-8494825603815218149?l=confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/feeds/8494825603815218149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2757519951576370748&amp;postID=8494825603815218149' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/8494825603815218149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2757519951576370748/posts/default/8494825603815218149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://confessionsofthecrouchgirls.blogspot.com/2007/06/be-gentle-its-my-first-time.html' title='Be Gentle ......... It&apos;s My First Time'/><author><name>LEANN &amp;amp; KRISTI</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14456474284369746388</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>
