<?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-271092187535720962</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:55:35.045-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Staci</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>58</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-4746089054282165506</id><published>2009-07-24T22:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T22:46:40.663-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We lucked out and this my view of the game! 6th row behind home plate! WOW!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="pp_items"&gt;&lt;div class="pp_item" align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/25ae59c1-8e81-41fe-baf6-e5ce810f213c_m.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-4746089054282165506?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/4746089054282165506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=4746089054282165506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/4746089054282165506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/4746089054282165506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/07/we-lucked-out-and-this-my-view-of-game.html' title='We lucked out and this my view of the game! 6th row behind home plate! WOW!'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-5728028920324280926</id><published>2009-07-24T15:05:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T15:05:42.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hugest pancake ever! I tried... honestly</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="pp_items"&gt;&lt;div class="pp_item" align="center"&gt;&lt;img src="http://static.pixelpipe.com/467af41a-a683-4e63-983a-d465530d3279_m.jpg" style="max-width: 100%;" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-5728028920324280926?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/5728028920324280926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=5728028920324280926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5728028920324280926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5728028920324280926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/07/hugest-pancake-ever-i-tried-honestly.html' title='Hugest pancake ever! I tried... honestly'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-7140902158399510445</id><published>2009-06-26T12:50:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T15:09:53.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vibrant San Fran</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I love my job! Have I ever mentioned that? Well, I do. This past week I was able to spend most of it in sunny San Fransisco. What was the purpose for the office outing? &lt;a href="http://www.volunteeringandservice.org/"&gt;The National Conference on Volunteering and Service&lt;/a&gt;. This was a conference highlighted by the keynote speaker of Michelle Obama. We did not make the opening session to hear her speak though. I don't think I missed out though, instead of seeing the opening ceremony we went to Yosemite. No trip is complete with sight seeing of the city! Like any trip with my boss, it was four days PACKED full of stuff.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;1. Landed in San Fran and rented a car. Since it was lunch, of course we went to In-n-Out for a delish burger. Never been? The time you're in California, you have to stop by and try your fries "Animal Style" YUMMY!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SkUn6yw934I/AAAAAAAAINc/iNaXMLLWBn0/s320/Of+course+it%27s+our+first+stop.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351727623212752770" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Next we drove down Hwy 1 to see the beach and a few surfers while walking along side the Pacific Ocean. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SkUnwjM2IOI/AAAAAAAAINU/60C1EK0tL3E/s320/DSC_0003.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351727447236026594" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. We made our way back into the city and crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge. No trip is complete with a walk across, so we did.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SkUoFgxPT4I/AAAAAAAAINk/qxACwIQZnKM/s320/DSC_0034.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351727807360618370" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Onward we drove the Muir Forest to see the Redwood trees. Absolutely beautiful! (but only a taste of the next day)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SkUocqSK7PI/AAAAAAAAINs/MsAkBDw5PSA/s320/DSC_0081.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351728205051653362" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Woke up bright and early to beat the traffic out of the city, only to find our rental car's front window busted! Yep, experiencing San Fransisco in all ways possible. We were robbed! GPS gone! My first ever 911 call went something like this: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt;- "umm, I need to report a robbery. Our car was broken into and our GPS was stolen."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;police responder&lt;/i&gt;- "Did you see it happen?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt;- "No, we just came out and the window was busted out."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;police responder&lt;/i&gt;- "Okay"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;pause&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt;- "We need an officer to come write a report."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;police responder&lt;/i&gt;- "We don't send officers out for this, you can either bring the car to a police station or register it online."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;me&lt;/i&gt;-"????"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Really?! Yep, undoubtedly this kind of thing happens all the time...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Go back to Enterprise and get our second car and get on the road.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Hike up and down a mountain. See some of the most beautiful scenery ever! This hike, by the way, was no walk in the park. Imagine doing a stairmaster for TWO hours straight! My calves are still working out the soreness! All the exhaustion and soreness was worth missing Michelle Obama to see the sights we saw.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SkUorVyd12I/AAAAAAAAIN0/vex3CKomiaA/s320/IMG_3199.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351728457248003938" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;at the beginning of the hike, before the tiredness set in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SkUpIyqkrFI/AAAAAAAAIN8/UppzFD0V6Nc/s320/IMG_3216.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351728963215731794" /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;view from the top of the first waterfall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SkUpdYA2s3I/AAAAAAAAIOE/ivKPv1ECdEY/s320/IMG_3238.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351729316838683506" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;view from the top of the second waterfall... totally worth it!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;8. Then conference time! I was able to meet a lot of people with the same interest of promoting civic engagement and volunteerism. I was also able to bring a good bit of information back to incorporate in our program.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Overall a great week so far! Can you believe the summer is half way over?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-7140902158399510445?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/7140902158399510445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=7140902158399510445' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7140902158399510445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7140902158399510445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/06/vibrant-san-fran.html' title='Vibrant San Fran'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SkUn6yw934I/AAAAAAAAINc/iNaXMLLWBn0/s72-c/Of+course+it%27s+our+first+stop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-7338550545165298202</id><published>2009-06-17T14:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T14:43:45.742-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Unusual Conversations</title><content type='html'>It sometimes makes me laugh how the conversations between two females can ebb and flow into totally unrelated topics. Today I was in the car with a great friend and the convo started about work. Likes, dislikes, exciting things going on, frustrations and so forth. Then I'm not sure how it happened, but we were in a detailed discussion about the type of face wash we use. What we look for in a face wash, what kinds we've used, and on and on. I absolutely could not imagine two guys have an in depth conversation about this topic. The topics continued to bounce for the duration of the car ride across town. Before dropping her off, we had covered exercising on the trace, work, face cleansers, housing in town, boards, and back to work. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After dropping her off at her office, it occurred to me how random our conversation was. Does this ever happen to you? Or am I just random?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-7338550545165298202?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/7338550545165298202/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=7338550545165298202' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7338550545165298202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7338550545165298202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/06/unusual-conversations.html' title='Unusual Conversations'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-1198569338398773442</id><published>2009-06-10T15:19:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T15:38:34.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>TCK Friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Have you met my TCK friend? If you haven't, I think you should. If you went to Southern Miss, you probably do know her. If you've read past posts, you might remember her from some of my past travels. This is one her specialties.&lt;div&gt;She is one of my most diverse friends and has great worldly knowledge. Better than that though, she's a TON of fun to hang out with. She is a person that has honestly taken every piece of her childhood, college, family, and professional life to make who she is. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have you guessed who my TCK friend is?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If you guessed:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SjAZtxxktcI/AAAAAAAAHaA/4j-XeQX5zkM/s320/DSC_0052.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345801031934850498" /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, you're right! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My "Third Culture Kid" friend, Jessica also has a blog. She explains what it means to be a TCK. &lt;a href="http://tcktales.blogspot.com/"&gt;Check her out here&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:Arial;font-size:7;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; white-space: pre; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:Arial;font-size:100%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="border-collapse: collapse;  white-space: pre;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-1198569338398773442?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/1198569338398773442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=1198569338398773442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1198569338398773442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1198569338398773442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/06/tck-friend.html' title='TCK Friend'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SjAZtxxktcI/AAAAAAAAHaA/4j-XeQX5zkM/s72-c/DSC_0052.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-3662447471505645023</id><published>2009-06-02T14:22:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T14:46:41.531-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Saving Lives... All in a Day's Work</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I had the unique experience of helping save a life. Let me explain...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I got to work the guy told me that a kitty decided to ride to work with him. He mentioned thinking he heard meowing while he drove, but thought nothing of it. Once he arrived to work, he could hear the meow coming from beneath his vehicle. He managed to look under the car and saw that a cat had crawled on the spare tire and was scared to come out. Quite honestly, if I had found a nice quiet place to sleep and then was abruptly woken by a speeding and bouncy ground flying under me, I would be a bit frightened too. There's times I'm scared when I'm buckled up in the passenger seat. Needless to say, there was no coaxing this kitty out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The guy thought well I have to go to work, the cat will come out on its own. End of story? Not quite...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After work we walked to our cars together. Once we approached his, you could a meow. A unhappy meow. The kitty was still there! A whole day under the car in that heat! Having more time to free the kitty, we got w&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;ork. Once the guy had lowered the spare tire, my job was to get the cat from beneath the car. The little kitten was not having it though. A nice man walking through the lot asked if he could help. Between the two of them laying on the parking lot ground in their dress clothes, they were able to get their hands on the kitten. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What they pulled out was this: &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(not actually kitten, but it's almost the same)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SiWAZAGmWmI/AAAAAAAAHYs/SxO5lDaejQw/s320/kitten" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 231px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342817699957725794" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A precious little orange calico kitten with the prettiest blue eyes. A precious little kitten that went wild when put on the ground. A precious little kitten that wasn't so precious, but actually ferral! That cat was crazy! Then it ran back under the car. Another much quicker rescue later, my job now was to hold the little animal while a box was found. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The little wild kitten was then boxed up to be taken home with the guy to his vet school bound sister. She'll know what to do with it. So now a home is needed for a very precious kitten. Any takers??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-3662447471505645023?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/3662447471505645023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=3662447471505645023' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3662447471505645023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3662447471505645023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/06/saving-lives-all-in-days-work.html' title='Saving Lives... All in a Day&apos;s Work'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SiWAZAGmWmI/AAAAAAAAHYs/SxO5lDaejQw/s72-c/kitten' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-3522339504885912357</id><published>2009-05-27T13:32:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T14:21:54.841-05:00</updated><title type='text'>REEEAAALLL Long Time!</title><content type='html'>Wheew... It's been a while since my last post. For those who wondered- Yes, I'm still alive. A lot has been going on lately, so let's do a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;quick&lt;/span&gt; recap from February (goodness!!). &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Picking back up in February... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I last left off telling about my birthday gift for the boy.  For his day we went the Southern Miss baseball game for a little bit. We got free tickets and he LOVES baseball which makes for a perfect pair. We then went by my house to open his present. He was soo excited about the little vacay to Savannah, GA. We then went to dinner at his favorite restaurant- Outback.  That basically wraps up that month. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On-ward March...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Work was busy as ever with the closing of our applications for our internal leadership teams. Then came on the interviews. Being the smart (insert sarcastic inflection) person I am, I decided to hold individual interviews for the group I work with. WOW! A great time to get to know the students, but it makes for a loooong day(s) which makes for a really really long week! BUT right when I wanted to hit my head against the wall Spring Break came!! Yay! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were Savannah bound! Interestingly enough during the forever car ride (which we broke into two days) we did not get on each other's nerves. I think that's a sign...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I managed to pick a conveniently located hotel that was perfect for walking around the city. We ate TOO much, danced in the streets, and all around had a great time! We joined in on the &lt;a href="http://www.savannahsaintpatricksday.com/"&gt;St. Paddy's festivities&lt;/a&gt;, but then also were able to see the 'normal everyday' life of Savannah once the holiday people rolled out. (sorry I can't access any pics at the moment)  I could most definitely live in Savannah! My new dream is to have a bed and breakfast there. I think the guy would go for it too!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Moving on to April...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vacation over and back to work! April brought a lot! Easter and Relay for Life along with &lt;a href="http://www.downtownhattiesburg.com/press/"&gt;Live after Five&lt;/a&gt;. I discovered a new attraction that the city offers every August and April- Live after Five. What it this? Well- it's awesome! Every Friday during these two months starting at 5pm there is live music in a downtown park for FREE! What a great idea! Tons of people come out with their kids, or friends if they don't have kids and bring their blankets and lawn chairs to listen/dance to the music. A.MA.ZING! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;April brought both the good news and the bad. As for the bad, I ask for prayers for my family. We are going through a tough situation that is too close to home to share at the moment. So I ask for you to pray. Enough of the bad though... on with the good!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;April also marked the beginning of my best friend's husband MLB career. &lt;a href="http://losangeles.dodgers.mlb.com/team/player.jsp?player_id=489052"&gt;Brent Leach&lt;/a&gt; was called up to play with the LA Dodgers in April! You can see more on &lt;a href="http://theleachfam.blogspot.com/"&gt;Sara's Blog&lt;/a&gt;. She does a great job of keeping everyone up to date with the on-goings of their lives. Congrats to Brent and Sara!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the words of Etta James, At Last... May...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ah the home-stretch of the semester. Once May hits, you know there is hope that you will make it to the summer. I hope I'm not sounding dramatic, but there are times in the semester when the word busy does even begin to define work! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;May= relief!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And so here we are at the end of May. An eventful and whirlwind of a past few months! Where has the time gone?! My summer is pretty much planned out already too. A conference in San Fran, vacation with family on the beach, a wedding in Gatlinburg, plus work and August will be here in a blink of the eye! Oh my!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-3522339504885912357?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/3522339504885912357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=3522339504885912357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3522339504885912357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3522339504885912357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/05/reeeaaalll-long-time.html' title='REEEAAALLL Long Time!'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-6882438658978992881</id><published>2009-02-25T11:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T11:34:06.167-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Questioning my Gift Giving Abilities....</title><content type='html'>The guy and I have been together for at least two or three holidays now. The holidays that 'require' giving gifts are starting to worry me though...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've always thought I've been able to pick out a thoughtful gift for another, but lately I have been proven wrong. Let me explain...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;For Christmas I was so surprised to receive a beautiful necklace as a gift. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I gave a planner and receipt catcher. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;For Valentine's Day I received more jewerly with my birthstone and crystal roses. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I gave a blanket and card. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;hmm.... Do we see a pattern?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;My sister laughs at the extreme difference of the gifts. I just feel embarrassed slightly. Well I think I have it though today. Why? Today is his birthday! I will be able to give a gift and not look silly because I will not be receiving one in return! Ha! Victory by default! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;(Question- is it really a competition though?) No...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;What is the gift? Can't tell. He hasn't even gotten it yet! I'll give a hint though... Two words: Green and Deen... Can you guess??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;***Update on Granny*** She talked to the doctor and they have the results.... Well, sort of. They ran the tests at the far off place that takes sooo long to process, and the results came back negative. SO, the far off place ran the tests AGAIN (ya know to double check... make sure it's not a false negative), and the results came back positive. What does this mean?? Back to square one... She will go in and have another biopsy done and start over. The dermatologist believes something is going on inside her, but that remains to be answered. So here we go again....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-6882438658978992881?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/6882438658978992881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=6882438658978992881' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/6882438658978992881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/6882438658978992881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/02/questioning-my-gift-giving-abilities.html' title='Questioning my Gift Giving Abilities....'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-293394212602988637</id><published>2009-02-20T09:21:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T09:54:47.687-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Paint.... Everywhere!</title><content type='html'>Last week I decided to do a little laundry. It's past time to get some clothes clean when the laundry basket is beginning to overflow. I had just gotten home from work and was more than looking forward to getting the load on and crawling into bed to relax. For some reason I was drained by the end of this day. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As I walked into the laundry room, my phone starts to ring. I have told myself repeatedly, when you don't know the number- DON'T answer. For some reason though I always forget this mental note and continue to answer. Being a Tuesday night I probably could have guessed this phone call though- it was the Mormons. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh you didn't know I was Mormon? Well-- I'm not, I'm Baptist. Quick back story- My old apartment complex housed a group of Mormon. They would frequently go around the complex sharing their beliefs and inviting people to church. Not wanting to be rude I would always talk, which in turn encouarged them to return each week. Mistake one. Then for some reason beyond me I gave them my number (not thinking they would actually call me to invite me to church) Mistake two. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its been a good 5 months since the last invite, but recently somehow my number has resurfaced in their ministry. A weekly invite 10 minutes before church starts on Tuesdays has begun. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well on this particular Tuesday I was a little grumpy. I quickly shot the invitation down with a quick, "I'm busy, sorry". Click. Mistake three. Let me explain....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I continued on with my plans of starting the laundry, wanting nothing more than to be snuggled in bed. As I started to pull the detergent down I noticed it was caught on the not-so-sturdy shelf above it. I figured there's plenty on that top shelf to hold it in place. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Umm.... Wrong...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One second I was pulling detergent. The next thing I know there is downpour of EVERYTHING on that top shelf. What was on that top shelf? Oh, about NINE paint cans and a few boxes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I managed to throw my hands above my head to protect myself, but nothing could have stopped the mess that quickly followed. Once I got enough courage to slowly open my eyes from the squenched closed position they were in, I first looked to the floor. A beautiful array of colorful paint stared back at me. This is not that bad, not a big deal at all. I quickly cleaned and thought I was done. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thought being the main word. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The floor was clean, now laundry... Wrong. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What I saw next was a &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;BIG&lt;/span&gt; deal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A paint can sat upside down on top of the washer and dryer &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;without&lt;/span&gt; the lid. It was positioned so perfectly that the paint easily slid down the sides of the BOTH the washer and dryer to form a huge puddle that eeked under each cleaning unit. The washer and dryer could easily be placed in the living room and not look out of place with the new paint job. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somehow the quick lie I told the Mormons quickly became a truth. I now in fact had something to do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two hours later I finally found my bed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Moral of the story- Don't lie, because someone or some power may just make it the truth. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have a Happy Weekend... Free of little white lies...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;**Update on Granny** She called the doctor this week and was told the results would be in next week. So we are still patiently waiting... Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-293394212602988637?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/293394212602988637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=293394212602988637' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/293394212602988637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/293394212602988637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/02/paint-everywhere.html' title='Paint.... Everywhere!'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-1434301025155474925</id><published>2009-02-06T10:41:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T12:49:49.850-06:00</updated><title type='text'>On a Roll</title><content type='html'>I have to tell you about a new find. When you read this, you will think "Those have been around forever- this is nothing new". Well in the MY world these are new and a-ma-zing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I will admit that I was introduced to them about 2 or 3 years, but did not think that they would work for me. I recently went on a trip and saw my travel companion using them. Then and there I decided I too could use them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I referring to? Well, velcro rollers of course! Yes, those rollers that do not require heat or little pins to hold them in place. It had to have been a smart person to slap a piece of velcro on the outside of a roller!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SYyF4tYM2AI/AAAAAAAAG14/_yr5OoM9PEE/s1600-h/rollers2_220.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 220px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SYyF4tYM2AI/AAAAAAAAG14/_yr5OoM9PEE/s320/rollers2_220.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299758070808500226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone with long or short hair can use these little marvels. True, shorter hair works better, but I love that I get smoother hair with a slight flip on the end without applying extra heat. Lord knows my hair can stand to have less heat applied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never tried the roller o' velcro? Maybe you should and you will be a believer too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Still waiting on a Granny update. Thanks for your prayers and thoughts!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-1434301025155474925?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/1434301025155474925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=1434301025155474925' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1434301025155474925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1434301025155474925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/02/on-roll.html' title='On a Roll'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SYyF4tYM2AI/AAAAAAAAG14/_yr5OoM9PEE/s72-c/rollers2_220.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-4113084880165663575</id><published>2009-02-04T09:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T11:23:12.306-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Never Ending Wait</title><content type='html'>I have some news to share. News that is hard to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandmother has been sick a good bit lately. During the fall she was hospitalized twice for the same symptoms. The doctors never really could narrow down the conclusions as to what exactly was causing her to pass out or lose control of her movement. They were however able to increase her meds to where she was taking 21 pills a day. Even with all the changes to her medicine, she hasn't really been feeling like herself. To add to all the drama, she has acquired this rash of some sort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a trip to the dermatologist,  a biopsy, and a few days of waiting, an answer finally came. A week ago today we found out that my granny has skin cancer. With a little more information, but not much, this is all we know right now. The biopsies have been sent for further testing. My mom emailed me this morning to let me know that the type of cancer is called &lt;a href="http://www.leukemia-lymphoma.org/attachments/National/br_1163608564.pdf"&gt;Cutaneous T-Cell Lymphoma&lt;/a&gt;. We will know next week the stage and treatment options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not knowing what any of this means, I have done a little research:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This type of skin cancer is not caused by the sun, actually one of the treatments involves lying in the tanning bed. I found that ironic.  If caught early, it can easily be treated. Because it is a lymphoma disease though, it has the possibility of spreading to internal organs (this all depends on what type of CTCL it is). This is the part that scares me the most. My grandmother also has some sort of blood cancer, but it was caught very early on. There hasn't been much concern over this, but I hope that this does not intensify the newly discovered cancer.  The literature talks about isolated patches and widespread coverage. I'm pretty sure my granny is in the widespread coverage since she has areas from the top of her head to the tops of her feet. Waiting for more information seems endless, but hopefully soon we will know more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is an amazing woman in that she picks the positive out of the situation. She is thankful they are not on the bottom of her feet yet and her daily pill count is down to 8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are the praying type, a prayer or two would be much appreciated. Not just for my granny, but also my mom. She lost her dad to cancer 4 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am thankful for the support that I have around me though. My friends and family are the best I could ask for. The guy has been most supportive making sure I stay calm until we know enough to get worked up over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For this I am thankful. For the wait, I dread, but I will learn patience one of these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More news hopefully sooner than later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-4113084880165663575?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/4113084880165663575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=4113084880165663575' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/4113084880165663575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/4113084880165663575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/02/never-ending-wait.html' title='Never Ending Wait'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8351259649565537180</id><published>2009-01-29T10:29:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T10:39:11.824-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss America Pageant</title><content type='html'>Now you may have read that last post and wondered: "What in the world did she go to Vegas for?" No, I didn't have an audition for the &lt;a href="http://www.cirquedusoleil.com/"&gt;Cirque Du Soleil &lt;/a&gt;(even though that would be a fun job... I'm just not quite flexible enough). Well I was recently presented with the invitation to attend the Miss America Pageant. Not because they thought I should be crowned, but because Miss Mississippi is a current student in the same scholarship program that I work for. It was an amazing experience to be able to see all the work and franticness that goes on during a live production.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our &lt;a href="http://www.sunherald.com/414/gallery/654881.html"&gt;beautiful Miss Mississippi&lt;/a&gt; won the swimsuit and fitness preliminary on Wednesday night. She did not place in the judges' minds, but in the heart of all her supporters she is the best. A group of us went and cheered our hearts out for her. I definitely woke up a few mornings with a feeling in my throat that I haven't felt since high school after a big game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am convinced that travel forces you to learn about yourself and also those around you. Luckily I was able to travel with some of the best people I know. i don't want to go into too much detail, but I have to say this: The board of managers that provide the scholarhip to students were able to attend also. These are all highly educated people, but work outside the realm of higher ed. I have never seen a foundation that is so committed to supporting their recipients as these are. They truly give me a model to look up to and admire. I am so thankful for the opportunities that my job affords me and all the lessons I am learning along the way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8351259649565537180?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8351259649565537180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8351259649565537180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8351259649565537180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8351259649565537180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/01/miss-america-pageant.html' title='Miss America Pageant'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-2674564686215142227</id><published>2009-01-27T15:54:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T16:12:30.775-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Lights of Las Vegas</title><content type='html'>Last week was spent in the crazy environment of Las Vegas. This trip was my second ever to Las Vegas, and my opinion stands the same. There is only so much you can handle of Vegas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I say that it is a crazy environment because of the extreme surroundings. Surrounding the lights and sights of the strip you have the most beautiful majestic mountains. We took one morning trip to Red Rock Canyon. I can say that seeing this made the trip. The most beautiful rocks and the most serene surroundings were seen. It's amazing how used to polluted smokey air you can get until you are placed in the middle of such pure air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though I enjoy to gamble (in small amounts-- $40 is all I lost) a girl can only take so much. I do have to say that being raised in the South has made me a bit more modest than others, and admit that the open nudity of marketing shocks me still. I don't care how many times that 'Hot Babes to you in 24 hours' van goes by, I still feel a little exposed with all my clothes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trip was complete with a trip to the Hoover Dam. Amazing what man can do, don't ya think? My personal favorite tidbit of information: The Hoover Dam is made of enough concrete to make a four foot wide sidewalk that would wrap around the equator. Now that's a lot of concrete!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The free shows on the strip are always my favorite! The Bellagio fountains will always be the best in my book though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, a great time! I have to say though, a week in Vegas is probably the equivalent to a month somewhere else!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-2674564686215142227?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/2674564686215142227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=2674564686215142227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2674564686215142227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2674564686215142227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/01/lights-of-las-vegas.html' title='Lights of Las Vegas'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8358994981029853008</id><published>2009-01-07T08:54:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-01-08T16:00:00.502-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping BUSY</title><content type='html'>whew... It's been a while. Almost a month I know! My readership of two has probably given up on me, but I am back. Hope everyone had a great holiday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, well not so recently, a &lt;a href="http://samemac.blogspot.com/"&gt;good friend&lt;/a&gt; "tagged" me on her blog. I suppose the only right thing to do is to keep it going by posting 6 'interesting' things about myself even if its ever so slightly delayed. Some of these might be little quirks I have as opposed to being interesting. This should be fun...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I am a 'do it yourself'-er. I love to do make things, create things, modify things. You name it, I like to do it when I have the time. My sister and I usually joke about the projects my mom is forever working on, but I am just like her. I was brought up in a house where my mom was constantly changing the inside of house in some form or fashion. I guess its in my blood. My most recent project was decorating my room with canvases. I go through phases of liking my own painting abilities, and right now I'm in a not liking phase. Instead of painting the canvases, I found a fabulous fabric at Hancock's and covered the canvases with it. With one large canvas at the head of my bed, it looks like faux-head board. My next project? Slowly but surely I want to paint my own place setting at the local pottery painting place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. My absolute dream job would be something revolved around traveling. I absolutely love to travel! Well my current job does involve a little travel, I got to take a trip to New York City over the holiday break, and soon will be getting to see the lights of Las Vegas. Hey, I'm not complaining!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I'm all or nothing. When doing something, even small things. If I'm not fully committed, I'm most likely not following through. If I'm organized, then EVERYTHING is organized. If I'm not, then NOTHING is. A little extreme, I know but this is who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I absolutely enjoy cooking, not so much the clean up though. If you ask the guy if this is true, he might disagree. Although I have only cooked about 3 times for him in the past 8 months, I do actually enjoy it. Currently I don't have ALL the cable channels, which I'm not complaining, but I do miss the FoodNetwork from time to time. The past holidays have been great being able to go home and cook with my grandmother, mother, and sister. Even though our conversations and tempers can get more heated than the oven, its always a lot of fun to get together in the kitchen with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I love planning. Nerd, I know. With my job, a little bit of planning is involved. From coordinating students throughout an important day on campus to planning a trip for students I love doing it. This planning has carried over into my 'outside of work' life. Or maybe I brought the planning with me? I don't know, but I do know I enjoy it. There's something about working hard on something and seeing it being carried out. I have to admit, I can go almost overboard with it though. My sister could only laugh at me when I brought a typed itinerary to her Bachelorette Party in Memphis. What can I say? I'm a dork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. If there is nothing on my schedule and USA catches me with a Law and Order marathon, I'm stuck. I can watch these types of shows all day long. I don't know if its the dun.dun. sound that keeps me in a trance or the twists and turns that keep you thinking. I will stay up way past my bedtime any night just to see who sexually assaulted Kandi, the hooker who was off duty. Absolutely compelling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well there it is. Six interesting facts or quirks about me! Hope you enjoyed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8358994981029853008?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8358994981029853008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8358994981029853008' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8358994981029853008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8358994981029853008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2009/01/keeping-busy.html' title='Keeping BUSY'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-4314682711724568500</id><published>2008-12-10T16:17:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T17:10:17.874-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Jerious- as in Best Birthday Present Ever...</title><content type='html'>November is a pretty special month. Not only is it the month that marks the opening for the holiday season, but three special birthdays take place in this month. This year I opened the month by turning 25. Somewhere around Thanksgiving, my granny turned 80. Then my dad wrapped up the month with a big 55 birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might be asking yourself right now, "Why is she jibbering about November when it's December?" Well, this past weekend we, my family, were able to celebrate my dad's birthday gift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you didn't know, my dad used to coach high school football. He has retired and now coaches junior high. Before he retired though, he was able to work with a lot of talented players. One in particular is now playing for the Atlanta Falcons. His name, Jerious Norwood. J-Rock as my calls him is a GREAT guy on and off the field. He has recently started a foundation. You can check it out &lt;a href="http://www.officialjeriousnorwood.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. My dad loves watching the games on TV and regularly sports his Jerious Norwood Foundation under armour gear around the house. So what better gift than tickets to see him play?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well luck would have it that the Falcons played in New Orleans this past weekend, and the rest of the family worked together to get everyone tickets, hotel rooms, and a car rental.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So off to the Big Easy we went as a family. The game was a lot of fun, my first professional game, but the best time was probably breakfast at &lt;a href="http://www.cafedumonde.com/"&gt;Cafe Du Monde&lt;/a&gt;. The guy's first beignet experience. Lots of powered sugar and lots of laughs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though dad didn't get to talk to Jerious and the Falcons lost (probably for the better, those Saints fans are anything but Saints) I think the weekend was a success with lots of fun! I've included some pictures from the weekend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SUBMHxypxGI/AAAAAAAAGlU/32pEV7L063Q/s1600-h/falcons.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SUBMHxypxGI/AAAAAAAAGlU/32pEV7L063Q/s320/falcons.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278302459786806370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-4314682711724568500?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/4314682711724568500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=4314682711724568500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/4314682711724568500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/4314682711724568500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/12/jerious-as-in-best-birthday-present.html' title='Jerious- as in Best Birthday Present Ever...'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SUBMHxypxGI/AAAAAAAAGlU/32pEV7L063Q/s72-c/falcons.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8262338623585533389</id><published>2008-12-05T08:41:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T08:50:03.390-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Insistant on the iPhone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/STk_dFe7jnI/AAAAAAAAEyA/it1UYeO_oVM/s1600-h/iphone_home.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/STk_dFe7jnI/AAAAAAAAEyA/it1UYeO_oVM/s320/iphone_home.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276318207361912434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have officially crossed over. Giving into my urges I am now the owner of an iPhone and I love it. A little holiday buy for myself. I made the purchase over the Thanksgiving break and actually got to play with it once I got back to town. It was a constant struggle to gain power over the little device with so many possibilities. If my dad was not hoarding it in his room, my brother-in-law was playing. If it happened to be able to rest the guy would soon find it and then I would get it back once the battery needed a little charge. To say the least, my family liked the new buy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving! I'm pretty pumped about the holiday season that has crept up on me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8262338623585533389?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8262338623585533389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8262338623585533389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8262338623585533389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8262338623585533389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/12/insistant-on-iphone.html' title='Insistant on the iPhone'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/STk_dFe7jnI/AAAAAAAAEyA/it1UYeO_oVM/s72-c/iphone_home.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-3790211740695683477</id><published>2008-11-18T21:04:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T17:35:20.535-06:00</updated><title type='text'>H is for Hunger and Homelessness</title><content type='html'>Did you know that November is Hunger and Homelessness Month? Well it is! Ironic how it is almost the month that starts the endless feast of too much food that doesn't seem to stop until New Year Resolutions are implemented, but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canned food drives are either just getting cranked up or are well under way. I have to comment though on how my life seems to be carried out in themes. Right now with the constant reminder of what this month represents through reminders to give and participate in the events about hunger and homelessness, I feel I have recently been tested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two nights in a row I was approached in public areas and asked for spare money. Once in the parking lot of church with the guy, and then in my car alone in the drive-through at Taco Bell. I encourage students daily to give and to serve, but is that story when it's asked of me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe it is better to give than to receive.  But when is it right to give? Do you just give to anyone who walks up to you and asks? No, is my answer. I believe there are proper venues to give and serve. I'm not saying give when it's convenient to you.  Robert Greenleaf (Servant Leader guru) says that serving should be a feeling that comes from within. Did I want to help these guys? Yes, but I don't think giving the band-aid of money would have done it. Sometimes you have to admit when some situations are bigger than you are, right now. Right now I do not feel I can help them adequately, maybe in the future, hopefully in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In both situations I was asked the same thing-- to give money for food/place to stay. Even though they were similar situations, I came away from the two with two different feelings. The first night I felt bad, could I have felt guilty coming out of church, maybe. The second night I was mad, I don't want to be stared at while ordering in the drive-through. Am I a bad person for these reactions? Maybe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think its safe to say that fear is always accompanied by situations of the unknown. I have no knowledge of what it is like to be hungry or wondering where my next meal will come from. I have never had to rely on the kindness of a stranger to provide my basic needs in life. I have been blessed to not have been in these situations. Does that make me better than these two men asking for money? By all means, NO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave this evening with a hunger myself. A hunger to know what more can I do. A hunger to want to make a difference. A hunger, I hope is never fulfilled.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-3790211740695683477?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/3790211740695683477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=3790211740695683477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3790211740695683477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3790211740695683477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/11/h-is-for-hunger-and-homelessness.html' title='H is for Hunger and Homelessness'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8388403063922946081</id><published>2008-10-31T08:16:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T08:29:47.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'>F is for Frightful Fun</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SQsH1t4JI7I/AAAAAAAAEtM/3vZrukAHM1A/s1600-h/Halloween-Candy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SQsH1t4JI7I/AAAAAAAAEtM/3vZrukAHM1A/s320/Halloween-Candy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263309208942093234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There's a spooky chill in the air this morning. No, its not because the temps decided to drop drastically this week... It's Halloween!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What an exciting day! I can only imagine all the scary costumes that will be present in the halls of elementary schools across the nation today. I have not yet seen any ghouls or cowboys strutting around, but then again its still early on a college campus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passing out candy is one of my favorite things to do at Halloween. I hope I am settled in enough to the new house to contribute to a few trick or treaters this evening. I do look forward to seeing the frightful sights!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Happy Halloween everyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8388403063922946081?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8388403063922946081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8388403063922946081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8388403063922946081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8388403063922946081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/10/f-is-for-frightful-fun.html' title='F is for Frightful Fun'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SQsH1t4JI7I/AAAAAAAAEtM/3vZrukAHM1A/s72-c/Halloween-Candy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-3586484414144900203</id><published>2008-10-28T20:47:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T15:05:15.927-05:00</updated><title type='text'>E is for Emptiness</title><content type='html'>Saturday afternoon I inserted the key into the door and turned, opening the door. An opening "Helllloooo" seemed to sing out of my mouth as I stepped through the door. Quickly a reply was heard and introductions were in order. "Mom, this is my new roommate. New roommate, this is my mom." I have found a new place to call home!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ventured to the front of the house and stared with excitement at the pure emptiness that made up my new bedroom and spare room. It has now become my task to fill this empty space with me and my stuff. It's official I'm moving! It's so official that I have to be out on my "Blast from the Past" apartment by Nov 1. That's Saturday folks! Eeeekkkk! I better get moving... literally!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel confident in my planning of what to move and when to move it. I have made a ridiculous goal to get things moved without using boxes. How is this done?? Umm... lots of small loads using luggage. I pack my books in luggage. Take it to the house. Unpack my books. Take my luggage back to the apartment to load up pots and pans. We'll see if there is any method to this madness or if it is just pure madness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully the mom and the guy were able to help this past weekend and all big furniture has been moved except the kitchen table, which will move later. A huge MUCHOS GRACIAS goes out to these two. Amazingly enough I do believe all my stuff is going to fit. The guy even offered to measure everything to draw to scale on paper my furniture to work out all the possibilities of arrangements. Too sweet, but we didn't have to. I'm pretty much the type that gets something in my head and makes it work. I wouldn't call this inflexibility, just determined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyday after work I made a trip or two to the new house with more stuff. Slowly it is starting to look like someone lives my room or at least someone is trying to. As I carry more and more of my belonging to the new place, I notice my little time capsule of an apartment is becoming bare. As one place fills the other empties. I think that's a shaky definition of moving. It will be a sad moment, but I'm looking forward to it, when I can look at the pure emptiness of what used to be my place of residency. With a little luck and a lot of hard work, I'll be able to look on that emptiness sooner than later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-3586484414144900203?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/3586484414144900203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=3586484414144900203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3586484414144900203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3586484414144900203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/10/e-is-for-emptiness.html' title='E is for Emptiness'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-2288733218936040092</id><published>2008-10-22T10:34:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-22T15:21:01.513-05:00</updated><title type='text'>D is for Delicious</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Delicious Red Apple&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SP-Ke9nvwaI/AAAAAAAAEqc/sSBFlkrgjbI/s1600-h/DSC_0033.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 148px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SP-Ke9nvwaI/AAAAAAAAEqc/sSBFlkrgjbI/s320/DSC_0033.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260075154334007714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Big Apple that is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a great weekend in the Big Apple with my two good friends. We were able to get a lot done and have a lot of fun in the process. The agenda was jammed packed and we were constantly on the go. A few of the stops on our whirlwind trek through Manhattan:&lt;br /&gt;The Met&lt;br /&gt;Museum of Modern Art&lt;br /&gt;Little Italy&lt;br /&gt;Chinatown&lt;br /&gt;Shopping in Soho&lt;br /&gt;Magnolia's Bakery&lt;br /&gt;The Lion King&lt;br /&gt;Avenue Q&lt;br /&gt;Central Park&lt;br /&gt;SATC Carrie's Stoop&lt;br /&gt;A little more shopping&lt;br /&gt;Luckily the most pain occurred in my feet, and not the banking account.&lt;br /&gt;A few pics from the weekend:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SP-KvA-22MI/AAAAAAAAEqk/SnXAERZ_KRE/s1600-h/Publication1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 371px; height: 322px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SP-KvA-22MI/AAAAAAAAEqk/SnXAERZ_KRE/s320/Publication1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260075430114154690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-2288733218936040092?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/2288733218936040092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=2288733218936040092' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2288733218936040092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2288733218936040092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/10/d-is-for-delicious.html' title='D is for Delicious'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SP-Ke9nvwaI/AAAAAAAAEqc/sSBFlkrgjbI/s72-c/DSC_0033.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-7090479035942188340</id><published>2008-10-13T21:53:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T22:18:17.112-05:00</updated><title type='text'>C is for Check lists and Countdown to the City</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SPQO1VMzcBI/AAAAAAAAEYg/8UlDOtSpRMw/s1600-h/statue-of-liberty-tours-new-york-city.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 173px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SPQO1VMzcBI/AAAAAAAAEYg/8UlDOtSpRMw/s320/statue-of-liberty-tours-new-york-city.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256842974434914322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It's official, I'm excited. Well, I've been excited for a while now, but the reality is setting in. In a few short days I will be making my way to the Big Apple for a girls weekend. Fall Break is here for students, so I figured that would be a slow time to take some time off, and I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two of my good friends and I will spend a long weekend doing whatever we want. And according to our recent emails to one another, whatever we want includes A LOT. Not wanting to miss out, the dork in me came out, and I created a googledoc for our itinerary. Pretty sure eyes were rolled on the other side of their screens, but I'm just covering all the bases. Flights are booked, rooms are reserved, all's that's left is bags to be packed (which will be tomorrow night).&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SPQNruZ2aRI/AAAAAAAAEYY/Y53y6zCuxDQ/s1600-h/DSC_0200.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 135px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SPQNruZ2aRI/AAAAAAAAEYY/Y53y6zCuxDQ/s320/DSC_0200.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256841709890201874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All three of us have birthdays coming up soon. So every night we are in the city we will celebrate one birthday. It works out perfect- three nights, three birthdays. I'm hoping this will become an annual event. Different years, different cities... I think I'm on to something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;No worries... I'm taking the camera. The batteries are charging now!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-7090479035942188340?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/7090479035942188340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=7090479035942188340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7090479035942188340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7090479035942188340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/10/c-is-for-check-lists-and-countdown-to.html' title='C is for Check lists and Countdown to the City'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SPQO1VMzcBI/AAAAAAAAEYg/8UlDOtSpRMw/s72-c/statue-of-liberty-tours-new-york-city.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-7199577507510528066</id><published>2008-10-10T14:22:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T14:42:06.095-05:00</updated><title type='text'>B is for Birthdays and Best Friends!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This weekend marks a special occasion. Oh- you checked your calendar and all you see if Columbus Day? Well, it might not be written in on your calendar, but 28 years ago on Sunday my parents' world changed drastically when my dear sweet sister blessed us with her presence!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love my sister! Well, that's a given. And here's why:&lt;br /&gt;She always looked out for me growing up (even if I didn't see that way at the time)&lt;br /&gt;She's a lot more thoughtful and concerned than she may let on.&lt;br /&gt;She is HILARIOUS! Laughter is always the third party when we're together.&lt;br /&gt;She married a great guy who oddly gets our family.&lt;br /&gt;She will have complete conversations with me without using a single personal pronoun while speaking in a baby voice... quite the experience... it drives my friends crazy!&lt;br /&gt;She lets me know when I have a bad boyfriend... so far she likes the current&lt;br /&gt;The older we get, the more we are alike.&lt;br /&gt;She's my best friend!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday Sweet Sister!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SO-vw6pX_aI/AAAAAAAAEYI/DRXobXV6nss/s1600-h/out+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SO-vw6pX_aI/AAAAAAAAEYI/DRXobXV6nss/s320/out+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255612545076034978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-7199577507510528066?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/7199577507510528066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=7199577507510528066' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7199577507510528066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7199577507510528066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/10/b-is-for-birthdays-and-best-friends.html' title='B is for Birthdays and Best Friends!'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SO-vw6pX_aI/AAAAAAAAEYI/DRXobXV6nss/s72-c/out+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-465254020228923634</id><published>2008-10-03T14:15:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T14:43:30.471-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All Around Busy</title><content type='html'>Hi there! Don't know if you remember me, but I used to be a blogger... then I got a new job. Meaning I got busy really busy! But I am making an effort to make blogging a routine thing, and in order to do this I am starting the alphabet blog... I'm sure I will soon refer to it as the dreaded alphabet, but for the time being I'll be an optimist with the glass half full :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My "A" could stand for many things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Absolutely Ashamed: I know I saw that last blog post date... August! Really?&lt;br /&gt;Accustomed: Slowly but surely I am becoming accustomed to my job. I am constantly learning something new. It's almost like being in school again, only I'm on the other side of the desk. Scary... for both me and the students :)&lt;br /&gt;Anonymous Ticket: I would love to have the job of giving out speeding tickets anonymously on campus. I'm a great judge of when someone is going too fast.  Its really not that hard in a 15 mph zone.  In my head, I hand out tickets left and right, especially parking. But that's another story another day.&lt;br /&gt;Advisement: This week is coming up and its on my mind.&lt;br /&gt;Academic: Should I go back to school?&lt;br /&gt;Awesome Timing: somehow something worked out right. I was in the right place at the right time on the right day and it all worked out. I stopped looking for a place to move to and a good friend calls me up needing a roommate. Amazing! (and another A) So this month is "Move Month" yay!&lt;br /&gt;Apple: Not just any apple though, The BIG Apple! I get a little vacay with the girls in two weeks to New York City! Very excited!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is across... I had plenty of "A's" to choose from, but my top pick is All Around Busy because that is what I am right now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much Love!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-465254020228923634?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/465254020228923634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=465254020228923634' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/465254020228923634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/465254020228923634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/10/all-around-busy.html' title='All Around Busy'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8639581694067975992</id><published>2008-08-05T14:59:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T15:55:57.516-05:00</updated><title type='text'>yay for vacation</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Last week I was able to go on vacation to Texas. We drove to Houston, then to San Antonio. We had lots of fun and took tons of pictures. Short recount of the trip:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long drive with a big dog that could double for a pony--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mimifroufrou.com/scentedsalamander/images/Shopping%20Logo%20TSS.jpg"&gt;shopping&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://houston.astros.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=hou"&gt;Astros&lt;/a&gt; vs. &lt;a href="http://cincinnati.reds.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=cin"&gt;Reds&lt;/a&gt; baseball--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.toweroftheamericas.com/"&gt;Tower of Americas in San Antonio&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thesanantonioriverwalk.com/default.aspx"&gt;Riverwalk&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.david-recommends.com/extreme/Empty%20Wallet.jpg"&gt;shopping&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.seaworld.com/sanantonio/default.aspx"&gt;Sea World&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i250.photobucket.com/albums/gg260/dcp003/sunburn.jpg"&gt;sunburn&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://msnbcmedia1.msn.com/i/msnbc/Components/Art/USNEWS/July/060717/AP_US_HEAT_v2.gif"&gt;heat&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.sazoo-aq.org/"&gt;San Antonio zoo&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://tell.fll.purdue.edu/JapanProj/FLClipart/Medical/sweat.gif"&gt;more heat&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.alamocafe.com/Default.asp"&gt;The Alamo Cafe&lt;/a&gt;-- BEST tortillas EVER!!--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trendmakerhomes.com/images/laguna_pool.jpg"&gt;pools&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.tiresias.org/images/play.jpg"&gt;play&lt;/a&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;Long drive back with big dog in MY lap-- (not happy)&lt;br /&gt;FUN TRIP! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(sorry went a little overboard with the linking... opps.. Am I procrastinating? I think so...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Here's a few pictures from the hundreds taken (and I'm not exaggerating... a picassa album of 405... we like the camera)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJiymhgLQRI/AAAAAAAAENw/NYO7IYUn7K4/s1600-h/astros.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 204px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJiymhgLQRI/AAAAAAAAENw/NYO7IYUn7K4/s320/astros.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231127342088929554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(at the Astros game) We were able to get GREAT seats-- 6th row. Thats first base behind my head. We got to see Ken Griffey Jr. before he was traded to the Chicago White Sox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJizharWx9I/AAAAAAAAEOA/Q3Hr8DwvzTs/s1600-h/towerofamericas1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJizharWx9I/AAAAAAAAEOA/Q3Hr8DwvzTs/s320/towerofamericas1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231128353869055954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at the top of the Tower of Americas... it was a bit windy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJizhDPFL5I/AAAAAAAAEN4/fB2CXKGabas/s1600-h/towerofamericas.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJizhDPFL5I/AAAAAAAAEN4/fB2CXKGabas/s320/towerofamericas.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231128347576446866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;back down on the bottom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJizhuWr1eI/AAAAAAAAEOI/GViUWuLVaAw/s1600-h/seaworld.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJizhuWr1eI/AAAAAAAAEOI/GViUWuLVaAw/s320/seaworld.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231128359151064546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at Sea World with the flamingos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8639581694067975992?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8639581694067975992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8639581694067975992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8639581694067975992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8639581694067975992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/08/yay-for-vacation.html' title='yay for vacation'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SJiymhgLQRI/AAAAAAAAENw/NYO7IYUn7K4/s72-c/astros.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-5973757069573920006</id><published>2008-07-25T11:25:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T11:35:38.807-05:00</updated><title type='text'>bad hair morning</title><content type='html'>Just in case you didn't already know, but its a REALLY bad idea to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;try a new hair style when you're already running late for work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SIn_i6v7YiI/AAAAAAAADv0/HxJPpG6_yVc/s1600-h/big-frizzy-hair.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 170px; height: 165px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SIn_i6v7YiI/AAAAAAAADv0/HxJPpG6_yVc/s400/big-frizzy-hair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226989817891086882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(slight exaggeration of what my hair would have looked like had I left it... without the roots though, of course)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;This morning I didn't want to straighten my hair OR wear it curly (I know, lazy!). So I decided to try this new way of styling. B.A.D. idea-- I now how people with naturally tight curly hair feels in the morning. Not to say trying new things is a bad thing, just make sure you have the time. The time that you "save" to do your new doo is quickly used up when you realize you still have to wait for the straightener to heat up to undo what you shouldn't have done in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made to work, slightly late, with nice straight hair. I should just except what can and can't be done with my mop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS-- Going on vacation next week to Texas with the guy... yay!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-5973757069573920006?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/5973757069573920006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=5973757069573920006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5973757069573920006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5973757069573920006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/07/bad-hair-morning.html' title='bad hair morning'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SIn_i6v7YiI/AAAAAAAADv0/HxJPpG6_yVc/s72-c/big-frizzy-hair.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-6512728695668137378</id><published>2008-07-24T16:17:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T16:29:13.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wii.Diculous.</title><content type='html'>Have you ever heard about people playing with a Wii? I've never liked video games and honestly think they are pointless, but recently I was able to bring a Wii home to test out. Umm... Can I say ABSOLUTE FUN! I played the sports game which can be quite addicting. On Sunday, the guy and I started playing and really got into it. 5 hours later we realized why the game kept telling us to take a break and go outside! We totally lost track of time! Lots of fun! Lots of laughs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day though... Wow! No more laughing... My arm seemed a little sore when I woke up. By the end of the work day I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wiidiculously&lt;/span&gt; sore! Having the exercise science degree that I have, (the one I practice in theory) I know I should work out those muscles again or the soreness will be worse the following day. So, of course, I went straight from work to play some more. Bowling is my favorite game and I promise you, that small little controller weighed as much as a bowling ball!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS-- Saw Mama Mia last night and loved loved it! Great movie and great soundtrack!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if you change your mind, I'm the first in line... honey I'm still free. take a chance on me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I'll be singing for months! :)&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-6512728695668137378?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/6512728695668137378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=6512728695668137378' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/6512728695668137378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/6512728695668137378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/07/wiidiculous.html' title='Wii.Diculous.'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-898127189036686190</id><published>2008-07-11T15:30:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T15:41:12.510-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Did Somebody Turn the Heat On?</title><content type='html'>I can feel them.&lt;br /&gt;Beads of sweat are starting to form.&lt;br /&gt;I can feel them. I know that's a bit nasty, but I think you should know.&lt;br /&gt;Am I at the beach or outside on vacation, you ask?&lt;br /&gt;I wish. To be by the pool would be refreshing. Sadly I am at work. No, I am not a glutton for punishment with my heat on. The air has decided to stop working. No big deal right? No! Today is predicted to be THE hottest yet! Yay! I literally feel like a character from that John Grisham movie set in Mississippi. I always laughed at the ridiculousness of the sweaty people in movies located in Mississippi, but honestly it's no exaggeration!&lt;br /&gt;I just walked to the post office so that I could experience the true heat of the day and appreciate the coolness still left in my office. I didn't take into account the amazing cool air IN the post office, for once I wasn't hurrying to get of there. I didn't want to leave! But, to keep looking like a crazy, I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonder what other errand I can run that has air conditioning?....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-898127189036686190?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/898127189036686190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=898127189036686190' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/898127189036686190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/898127189036686190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/07/did-somebody-turn-heat-on.html' title='Did Somebody Turn the Heat On?'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-7404490498192503802</id><published>2008-07-03T11:29:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T11:49:31.149-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Fake Friday!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;WoooHooo for short weeks and loong weekends! Even though today is Thursday, its like a Friday! Fire up the grills, its the Fourth of July! Happy Independence to all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-7404490498192503802?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/7404490498192503802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=7404490498192503802' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7404490498192503802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7404490498192503802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-fake-friday.html' title='Happy Fake Friday!'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-3640280285679441290</id><published>2008-06-26T13:45:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T16:49:56.712-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the hunt is on</title><content type='html'>For the past year I have lived in the same apartment and I am now officially ready to get OUT! I know you may be thinking, Staci- It's only been ONE year. In my defense I moved in a year ago with all intentions of only living there for 6 months. A year later, I'm bit tired of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong I love my little "blast from the past" "straight from 70's" retro apartment, but I'm desperately in need of my own washer and dryer. The pay per load is not cutting it. My dirty laundry is just too tempting when I have no money or time to sit and wait for laundry to be done. I'm more the type that likes to grab the clean clothes out of the dryer while I'm getting dressed. Not too sure the management at my apartment would appreciate me running to the dryer half dressed to grab clothes out of the dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so my hunt for a house begins. I know big step from apartment to house. But I'm not looking to own, just rent. My boss tells me it's because of my commitment phobia, but I have my reasons and that's not it. I think renting would be the smarter thing for me right now. Next year may be a different story, but this is now and renting is the route.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far I have looked at two houses. Well, one house and a duplex. Sadly I will not be returning phone calls to either of those numbers. The first house was in my favorite part of town, Historic Downtown, and it truly hurts to know I'm taking it off my list. The house to the right is amazing. The house to the left is beautiful. The house across the street is amazingly beautiful. Then you have the actual house (duplex). sigh. A great fixer upper, but I'm looking to rent not fix up.  Scratch that off the list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the second house... I actually liked the house just not the location. To describe the area nicely, the house had a fenced in backyard. A fence made from chicken wire. Really? The fact that the guy showing the house wouldn't turn his BMW off and stood outside the whole time on his phone was enough to make me want to run to car. And lock the doors. Scratch that one too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so the hunt continues. I've made a few more calls and have more prospectives. This should be fun. I'm not looking for anything too special. Something along the lines of...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SGPwo3GGmvI/AAAAAAAADjY/48MPxDuESh0/s1600-h/whitehouse.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SGPwo3GGmvI/AAAAAAAADjY/48MPxDuESh0/s400/whitehouse.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216277378200148722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think the big guy is willing to relocate? I'm sure someone would do my laundry for me there! Who do I contact to find that out? smiles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep you updated on the hunt! Happy Hunting to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-3640280285679441290?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/3640280285679441290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=3640280285679441290' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3640280285679441290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3640280285679441290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/06/hunt-is-on.html' title='the hunt is on'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SGPwo3GGmvI/AAAAAAAADjY/48MPxDuESh0/s72-c/whitehouse.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-5460512788994262580</id><published>2008-06-23T21:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T21:10:21.533-05:00</updated><title type='text'>promised pictures...</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="420" height="312"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.scrapblog.com/viewer/viewer_v2_embed.swf?scrapblogId=292540&amp;amp;showShareButton=true&amp;amp;showShareInitially=true&amp;amp;showOnlyShare=false&amp;amp;partnerId=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.scrapblog.com/viewer/viewer_v2_embed.swf?scrapblogId=292540&amp;amp;showShareButton=true&amp;amp;showShareInitially=true&amp;amp;showOnlyShare=false&amp;amp;partnerId=1" width="420" height="312"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps... it's hard to find pictures taken at 120 mph without your face looking absolutely hideous!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-5460512788994262580?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/5460512788994262580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=5460512788994262580' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5460512788994262580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5460512788994262580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/06/promised-pictures.html' title='promised pictures...'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8633039732283004348</id><published>2008-06-23T08:41:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T10:03:35.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>checking off THE list</title><content type='html'>We all have a list. Some write it down. Some keep a running list in their mind. Personally I have mine written down and folded up and kept in my desk at work. This list is not the grocery list or the to do list of the day. Though it is a to do list of sorts. It's a daily reminder that there is a ton of stuff that I want to do during the dash of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Some items on my list are: (not the complete list)&lt;br /&gt;run with the bulls in Spain&lt;br /&gt;be a guest judge in Kitchen Stadium on Iron Chef America&lt;br /&gt;eat at my favorite Food Network chefs' restaurants&lt;br /&gt;make my own pottery&lt;br /&gt;paint my own place setting for home&lt;br /&gt;cycle through Ireland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might wonder why I'm talking about my list this beautiful Monday morning. Well, one of the best things about lists is being able to mark things off of it and this weekend I was able to do just that. What did I do, you ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.goldcoastskydivers.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SKYDIVE!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;What an experience! What a thrill! All my sister says about the dive is that I'm that girl. Let me explain...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being the ultimate beginner that I am, I'm jumped tandem (the company would have it no other way). I show up in Lumberton (yes, Lumberton) for the appointment I placed almost a month ago with friends and family. There are five total jumping. After a little bout of rain, the sky clears and we report for our quick yet thorough 10 minute training. My brother-in-law and I are going on the first plane, so we suit up in a not so flattering jumper that makes you oddly aware of your butt. The videographer gets some footage of my being my natural self- silly. Then we board the plane. Thankfully I was placed with 'The Best' tandem master (or so the people working say, but I do agree).  When we reached an altitude of 14,000 feet people start jumping. Okay right here is the second scariest part of the jump (the first is yet to come), looking over the edge of the plane, knowing you are about to jump out of a perfectly functioning plane just for fun. Scary or not, you have no choice. The guy strapped to your back is calling the shots here. I have to say plummeting to the earth at 120 mph for two miles is quite an experience and FAST (and addicting). Then with a graceful jolt, you are no longer laying flat but sitting up and peacefully sailing through the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well not quite peacefully yet. The last thing you want to hear while skydiving is the professional that has your life in their hands cussing. Yes, cussing. And yes, this is what I heard. I heard cussing and felt tugging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I try politely asking,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "Is everything okay?"&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;No response, only cussing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he says, "Here we go".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?! We've already gone! Suddenly we're in a flat position again with the sensation of free-falling. The only thing I'm thinking is I don't quite remember this in the training. Maybe I should start paying closer attention. Then we're upright again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Again I politely ask, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Is everything okay?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A response this time, "Yeah we just had a slight malfunction."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"And now? Now, is everything okay?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, you're doing good."&lt;br /&gt;Ahh, the peaceful drift to earth starts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;When I get to the ground, my friends and family run to me, "Are you okay?! Do you know what just happened?! Did you know your main chute was cut and you landed on the reserve?!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What?! Are you kidding me?! That was the&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; SLIGHT&lt;/span&gt; MALFUNCTION! The main chute didn't fully open? My sister then tells me, "You're that girl. You always hear about how it happens to that other person, but you're that person. You're that girl!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This slight malfunction didn't keep the other three from jumping after me though (and I'm glad). Even with the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;slight&lt;/span&gt; stress that comes with a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;slight&lt;/span&gt; malfunction I had a blast! I recommend it to anyone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would I go again? Oh yeah! Just let me save for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; pictures are to come later promise promise&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8633039732283004348?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8633039732283004348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8633039732283004348' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8633039732283004348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8633039732283004348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/06/checking-off-list.html' title='checking off THE list'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8250823853064918802</id><published>2008-06-11T09:27:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T09:49:19.542-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BINGO!</title><content type='html'>Yes, I said Bingo! No, I' m not referring to a dog of any sort either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A new bingo facility has opened in Hattiesburg, and last night "the guy" and I decided to inspect. I've never played bingo outside of grammar school, so I didn't know exactly what to expect. I was actually expecting to be one of two under the age of 60 (the guy being two). Boy was I&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SE_lxKByvXI/AAAAAAAADiw/l-LPugxOVhY/s1600-h/bingo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 192px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SE_lxKByvXI/AAAAAAAADiw/l-LPugxOVhY/s400/bingo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210635926559178098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; wrong. Quite a crowd for Tuesday night bingo. About 120 or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big shocks for the night:&lt;br /&gt;1- the crowd (already shared)&lt;br /&gt;2- the money&lt;br /&gt;both the amount you have to spend to play (around $30ish a person, if you play smart) and the payout! Grand prize of $1,199.99!!! Why an odd number like that? Once you win $1,200 you have to report it on taxes.&lt;br /&gt;3- the amount of games&lt;br /&gt;There were 42 games in all. We didn't play them all, but they all pay out.&lt;br /&gt;4-the technology&lt;br /&gt;You can pay a little extra and play on a computer. Which means, you can just type your bingo card numbers in and watch the computer fill you card up as the game goes. All you have to do is yell Bingo! when the time is right. We opted for the old fashion way.&lt;br /&gt;5-the fact that I WON!&lt;br /&gt;Don't get too excited I did not win the jackpot, sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a recount of the win:&lt;br /&gt;Mid-way through a game, I was looking at my cards and got excited because I was one away from winning. I excitedly pointed at my card showing "the guy". He looks over asking, "What do you lack?" In my mind I'm crossing my fingers that my number will be called before someone else calls out Bingo! as I tell him B13. I notice he has this strange look on his face, then he replies "That's the wild, you should already have that marked!" I thought, "Crap!" but yelled, "BINGO!" with a big smile!&lt;br /&gt;Pay out of $50... yes ma'am big winner over here :) All in all with the win we broke even :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I have fun? You bet!&lt;br /&gt;Will we return? of course! I feel a jackpot win coming on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8250823853064918802?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8250823853064918802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8250823853064918802' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8250823853064918802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8250823853064918802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/06/bingo.html' title='BINGO!'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SE_lxKByvXI/AAAAAAAADiw/l-LPugxOVhY/s72-c/bingo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-2919403791759746249</id><published>2008-06-06T09:25:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T09:38:04.827-05:00</updated><title type='text'>making a statement</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Recently a friend and I were discussing the crazies of the world. He had been invited to a quite disturbing group on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/"&gt;facebook&lt;/a&gt;. The group's title was something along the lines of, "Fight Gas Prices, Burn Down Gas Stations!".&lt;br /&gt;Are you kidding me?!&lt;br /&gt;That's a great answer to the problem of high gas prices. Don't worry about carpooling, walking, taking a bike, not going as often, just let 'em burn! CRAZY!&lt;br /&gt;My friend and I decided to report the group. I've always seen that little button to report a group and thought... who does that? Well my friend did.&lt;br /&gt;Done. It's over. Right? Not quite.&lt;br /&gt;I heard a news story on the radio this morning and could only shake my head in disbelief. I got to work and just had to look up the story. In an effort to &lt;a href="http://www.fox6.com/news/local/story.aspx?content_id=515886c7-352b-4e6f-bdb3-7d74ff11db21&amp;amp;rss=tick"&gt;"Do Something About High Gas Prices"&lt;/a&gt; a woman in California set fire to not one but TWO gas stations and a Starbuck's! Well, I guess she solved the problem for herself. She probably won't be driving too much now that she faces arson charges.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not saying that the facebook group led to her firey acts, but its just a little disturbing. She's not the only one who thought of it. Someone also made that group. Not to say they will act on it or follow the suggestion, but hundreds of facebookers have joined this group! A not-so-funny joke that is a little too serious.&lt;br /&gt;Out. Of. Control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-2919403791759746249?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/2919403791759746249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=2919403791759746249' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2919403791759746249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2919403791759746249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/06/making-statement.html' title='making a statement'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-1196609143159578349</id><published>2008-06-05T21:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T22:27:09.432-05:00</updated><title type='text'>delightfully tacky, yet unrefined?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;And no, I am not talking about Hooters... the restaurant. No, I just returned home from a party. This was no ordinary party though. This was a lingerie party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh  la la...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While typing I know I am breaking some sort of "chick rule", but I'm not exposing anything risque, so I'm safe. All I have to say is, I should have taken a pencil and paper to take notes for my way distant future hopefully one-day honeymoon (no, it is nowhere on the radar, but I'm sure these ideas and 'tips' will not go out of style).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The excuse for a bunch of girls to get together and talk about unmentionables is that my sweet friend is getting married this weekend. &lt;a href="http://futuremrsknight.blogspot.com/"&gt;Amy Wade&lt;/a&gt; will soon Amy Knight. Excitement. I know you can feel it! She's tying the knot and I can't be more happier for her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations my friend! I can't wait for Saturday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-1196609143159578349?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/1196609143159578349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=1196609143159578349' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1196609143159578349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1196609143159578349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/06/fun-and-informative.html' title='delightfully tacky, yet unrefined?'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-5313109539822391436</id><published>2008-05-22T16:27:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T16:51:06.275-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fried Green Tomatoes</title><content type='html'>Monday night I had dinner at this very eclectic restaurant, but it was not a planned dinner in the least bit. A certain boy I've been spending some time with decided to take a little afternoon trip to Meridian. While he tended to some business, I shopped. When the mall closed, I decided to do a little exploring. I had never been to this town, and I've heard they have a cute downtown area like Hattiesburg (which I am currently obsessed with!). I am pretty confident in my directional skills in times of exploration. Well at least I was until the streets starting splitting randomly and suddenly vearing. Then throw some one-way streets into the mix and I was absolutely confused. After about 10 minutes of thinking I should be headed one way, I found my landmark street was in the opposite direction. I honestly do not know how I got so turned around, but I found my way nonetheless. Before finding my way back to where my nerves were at comfort, I did find a little restaurant called the&lt;a href="http://www.thehungryheifer.com/"&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thehungryheifer.com/"&gt;Hungry Heifer&lt;/a&gt;. Some might have looked at the Christmas light and road sign decorations and turned around. Not me! What personality! Plus the name described EXACTLY what I was by this time. One very, very hungry girl! So I picked up the boy and we were on our way to eat. I was so proud of my find, though he was a little hesitant. &lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/User/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot-5.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say, the fried green tomatoes were probably the best ever. They rival Crescent City! I know, that good! True they did not have the delicious crawfish and crab on top, but they were so good without. The portions were big, so I had some for lunch the next day. Still good even warmed up (in the oven though mind you).  A must eat if ever in the area. Getting lost turned out to be pretty fruitful if I do say so myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.-- Don't ask how to get there... like I remember :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-5313109539822391436?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/5313109539822391436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=5313109539822391436' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5313109539822391436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5313109539822391436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/05/fried-green-tomatoes.html' title='Fried Green Tomatoes'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-1934431686930940053</id><published>2008-05-19T13:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T14:08:27.557-05:00</updated><title type='text'>catching up</title><content type='html'>This weekend was great! I was able to go to my parents' house. I haven't been home in about 2 months, so it was nice. On Saturday I decided to layout and then wash my car. When you wash your car at my house you run the risk of having to wash others, but it was a beautiful day so I didn't mind a bit when my grandmother asked me get hers while I was at it. :) Well I didn't mind until I got out of the shower that evening. When I say my back looks like a lobster, I'm not even joking. You know those pamphlets and warnings that say, "Avoid prolonged time in the sun between the hours of 11 am and 2 pm"? Well they aren't kidding! Burnt, painful burn too, but Sylvia (my car) is all clean and happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I also got to hang out with my two best friends, Sara and Lexie. I haven't seen either of them since February, so it was long overdue to hang out! I love these girls! We've been best friends since grade school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDHOXtNkeyI/AAAAAAAACzs/9tF6j361f10/s1600-h/sara_lex.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDHOXtNkeyI/AAAAAAAACzs/9tF6j361f10/s400/sara_lex.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202165951258458914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture from Sara's wedding in 2006. Such a beautiful bride, and I have to say to very attractive bridesmaids! :)  Lexie is probably the best 4th grade school teacher a kid could wish for! Sara is busy keeping up with her baseball playing hubby! Check out her busy life in minor league world &lt;a href="http://theleachfam.blogspot.com"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. Hopefully Lexie will soon follow with some of her funny stories from class with her own blog. These two girls are my hearts! I love them!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-1934431686930940053?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/1934431686930940053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=1934431686930940053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1934431686930940053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1934431686930940053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/05/catching-up.html' title='catching up'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDHOXtNkeyI/AAAAAAAACzs/9tF6j361f10/s72-c/sara_lex.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-7804903668191538463</id><published>2008-05-02T08:51:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T10:03:01.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Well if it's for a Cause...</title><content type='html'>Have you ever noticed if something is for a cause, then its a hit! There can be an ordinary green shirt. No big deal, but if you put "I'm green" on it the likelihood of it selling more will rise. I'm not&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SBsqBkfsAyI/AAAAAAAACyM/aOhAiLWpXTw/s1600-h/gogreen-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 184px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SBsqBkfsAyI/AAAAAAAACyM/aOhAiLWpXTw/s400/gogreen-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195792801566819106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; pointing my finger at anyone other than myself. Recently Southern Miss has started a "Go Green" campaign. One of the first things implemented were these nifty mugs. I know you might have seen them at your average gas station. It's a mug with a lid and it fits in your car cup holder. You can put cold and hot beverages in it (probably not at the same time... a coke and coffee eww). What makes this mug different from ALL the other mugs out there? Well my friend, this mug says "Drink to the Earth". Well if we're drinking to the earth, I must buy one! My eco-friendly drinking habits were never discovered until a mug told me to do so. Mugs like this have been sold for a very LONG time. Yet, when you stick a cause on it, its totally different. Yes, I do agree it does promote awareness having the message on the mug, so its not a total cliche. So I can and will be seen with my Drink to the Earth mug on campus drinking my coffee and lemonade. Hopefully I can remember to take it home on the weekends to continue my earth friendly drinking habit. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the by my Go Green Guru, Larry Lee, has informed me though that I must drink EVERY drink out of that mug for FIVE years in order for it to benefit anything. Wow... that's a long time for one mug. I think I might have to go get another, so I can switch them out. hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps-- check out &lt;a href="http://www.thehungersite.com/"&gt;thehungersit.com&lt;/a&gt;. Feed the hunger while you shop! Most of my Christmas presents came from here and I think its safe to say my gifts were loved!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-7804903668191538463?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/7804903668191538463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=7804903668191538463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7804903668191538463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7804903668191538463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/05/well-if-its-for-cause.html' title='Well if it&apos;s for a Cause...'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SBsqBkfsAyI/AAAAAAAACyM/aOhAiLWpXTw/s72-c/gogreen-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-1239735133352583129</id><published>2008-04-20T21:51:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T22:28:27.739-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a wonderful world of make believe</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SAwJC6-CBPI/AAAAAAAACu0/QHb7z2KO-4s/s1600-h/valentines.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SAwJC6-CBPI/AAAAAAAACu0/QHb7z2KO-4s/s200/valentines.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191534416245163250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Even though I am 24, I have to say one of the best jobs ever is babysitting. Where else can you work in a land of fantasy, unless you work for the big Mouse himself? I have a pretty steady babysitting side-career currently, and the girls I keep, keep my heart. Walking into their house is always a delight. You never know what adventure awaits and what part you will play in it. I've played many different roles-- from Tinkerbell to a timid turtle. A fairy princess to a tan-skinned mermaid. Glinda the Good Witch to a crawling baby only able to communicate with goo-goo.  My favorite dance partners have been found in the homes I babysit. I only hope I will always be able to dance with their same carefree attitude and just enjoy the music of the moment. (That's me and two of the beauties dancing at a Valentine's Dance).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend I was able to watch 'my girls'. Instead of the usual 3, Tabitha and I tag-teamed with 5 on this particular night. It has to be understood, these children have stolen the hearts of both Tabitha and myself. Slight jealousy arises when the other gets to watch the girls (a friendly jealousy though).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;The weather was so beautiful this weekend, you were drawn outside. After swinging and running for a while, one of the girls started rearranging the chairs in the backyard. I'm not quite sure where all the chairs came from, but pretty soon there was a straight line of about 9 chairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;When asked what she was doing, she confidently responded, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I'm making a Barbie Shop."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"A Barbie Shop?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Yes, a Barbie Shop. Only girls can get their hair cut here."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Precious!&lt;br /&gt;I just had to get my hair done. After a quick snip snip with play scissors and a few pokes in the ear, I had a blow dry with a bubble maker. Fabulous! But it didn't end there. I was then able to pick a toy on account of my good behavior. She had a blanket of toys laid out behind the row of chairs to choose from. Such imagination!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how I used to play when I was little. Sometimes its hard to remember. When did we get too big for fairy princesses and secret missions? As the distance between childhood and today grows, I am so thankful that I do have reminders in my life keeping the kid in me alive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-1239735133352583129?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/1239735133352583129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=1239735133352583129' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1239735133352583129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1239735133352583129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/04/wonderful-world-of-make-believe.html' title='a wonderful world of make believe'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SAwJC6-CBPI/AAAAAAAACu0/QHb7z2KO-4s/s72-c/valentines.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-1105995357820899364</id><published>2008-04-19T14:46:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T15:36:31.319-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am my mother's daughter... naturally</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SApULK-CBNI/AAAAAAAACuk/MnZzkEuEIGw/s1600-h/out+117.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SApULK-CBNI/AAAAAAAACuk/MnZzkEuEIGw/s200/out+117.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191054071397745874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this is a given. Duh- Of course I'm my mother's daughter! Who else's would I be?! Over time this has become evidently true. Growing up I always thought 'I'm never going to be like my mom-- she's crazy!' (a good crazy though, not the crazy crazy you're probably thinking) I'm sure we've all had these thoughts about our parents or another influential grown-up. You pick something about them and decide that is something you will NEVER do or be like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well nothing like reality to hit you in the pants for thinking that! Last week was my mom's birthday. She decided to make a weekend of it. And not just any weekend, a weekend with me none the less. She came to town on Thursday, spent the night. Shopped Friday while I worked. We went to the Coast that night and saw the Blue Man Group at the Beau and came home on Saturday. During this trip she was able to see my life in Hattiesburg, and she could not get enough of it. Always asking questions-- something I am terribly guilty of almost all the time. Wanting to know more than I'm willing to open up to-- another something I'm guilty of-- I usually always want to know more then I should.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After her visit I was told that I'm a lot like my mom. To my astonishment my jaw dropped-- No&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SApXW6-CBOI/AAAAAAAACus/GPrbGttgZ90/s1600-h/laugh1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 137px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SApXW6-CBOI/AAAAAAAACus/GPrbGttgZ90/s200/laugh1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191057571796092130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, I'm not, but in reflection, yes. Yes, I am. Its a not a bad thing either. I laugh and make fun of the way she rationalizes shopping when she has plenty, knowing I do the exact thing almost daily. Guess that's where I learned it. I'm sure there are tons of little non-verbal gestures we both do that I'm unaware of. I even gain weight the same way she does. It's in my genes. I might as well accept it.  I love my mom-- who wouldn't? It's funny I can talk or hang out with my sister and something will happen. We will both just look at each other and wonder aloud when we both became our mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-1105995357820899364?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/1105995357820899364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=1105995357820899364' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1105995357820899364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1105995357820899364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-am-my-mothers-daughter-naturally.html' title='I am my mother&apos;s daughter... naturally'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SApULK-CBNI/AAAAAAAACuk/MnZzkEuEIGw/s72-c/out+117.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8542913817816143071</id><published>2008-04-09T15:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T15:41:37.798-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tagging conformity</title><content type='html'>So, this tag thing is going around the blogspot right now.... I suppose in an effort to procrastinate a bit I will contribute. Thanks Amy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five things on my to-do list today...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Clean my apartment.&lt;br /&gt;2. Do some laundry&lt;br /&gt;3. Buy a gift&lt;br /&gt;4. Call a gym and join&lt;br /&gt;5. Catch up on some reading&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five snacks I enjoy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;1. Wheat thins&lt;br /&gt;2. Hummus... is this considered a snack or meal?&lt;br /&gt;3. cheese&lt;br /&gt;4. CANDY! I have a slight sweet tooth&lt;br /&gt;5. Combos-- the pepperoni with cracker kind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five things I would do if I were a billionaire ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Pay off any bills for me, parents and sister/brother-in-law&lt;br /&gt;2. Give to different service/nonprofit organizations-- kids, cancer (things I care about)&lt;br /&gt;3. Church&lt;br /&gt;4. travel&lt;br /&gt;5. not throw it all away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five bad habits...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Can't say no&lt;br /&gt;2. Push important issues to the side instead of facing them&lt;br /&gt;3. Sometimes I don't share my true feelings (kinda ties in with #2)&lt;br /&gt;4. Try to finish other people's sentences&lt;br /&gt;5. Daydream&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five places I have lived ...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Brandon, MS&lt;br /&gt;2. Hattiesburg, MS&lt;br /&gt;3. Southern Miss Campus, this is much different than living in Hattiesburg&lt;br /&gt;4. Madrid, Spain (for a summer while I studied)&lt;br /&gt;5. my mom would say I lived at best friend's house for the better part of my childhood instead of my own house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Five jobs I've had... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Developer for the Future (I babysit. I like kids.)&lt;br /&gt;2. Provider of Higher Education (maybe not THE provider, but I help by doing my job now)&lt;br /&gt;3. Soldier of Knowledge (aka- student)&lt;br /&gt;4. Barista (okay, I served coffee at a medical facility, but barista sounds really cool)&lt;br /&gt;5. Scrimp Scrampy Server (server at Red Lobster in Jackson for a short time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay... That's all. I'm not tagging anyone. It's just too much pressure :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8542913817816143071?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8542913817816143071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8542913817816143071' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8542913817816143071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8542913817816143071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/04/tagging-conformity.html' title='tagging conformity'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-4763277721634723909</id><published>2008-04-08T16:14:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-08T16:45:07.065-05:00</updated><title type='text'>i heart the office... in reality and on tv</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R_vj2YNiYcI/AAAAAAAACts/TYf_zeyhUIU/s1600-h/Office-Cast-800x600.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 178px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R_vj2YNiYcI/AAAAAAAACts/TYf_zeyhUIU/s400/Office-Cast-800x600.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186989919198929346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In celebration of a new episode to FINALLY grace the airways, I will share my love of "The Office". Well not only my love, but definitely the love of the two others in my office space. Not everyone is a fan in the entire office. BUT I am convinced if they watched, they too would be hooked as I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In recent weeks the guy who sits next me and I have started to play innocent office pranks on one another. Nothing big really. For instance, occasionally while talking to him I will slyly push the lever up on his chair with my foot causing him to suddenly drop a bit. No matter how many times I do this, he is always caught off guard which makes it so much more enjoyable for me. I've created a small wall between our adjoining desk with popsicle sticks. I've received text messages warning me about my coffee from "the Future Staci" (him). The latest is pretty good I have to say so my self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This past weekend I had to come to the office for a little bit to help with something.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R_vjTINiYbI/AAAAAAAACtk/g9BwpPNMSKs/s1600-h/IMG_5323.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 147px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R_vjTINiYbI/AAAAAAAACtk/g9BwpPNMSKs/s400/IMG_5323.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186989313608540594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Since it is rare to be in the office outside of office time AND him not be there also, I decided this was the perfect time to strike. I hid his chair and built a much smaller chair out of tinkertoys. Yes, we have tinkertoys in the office. What office is complete without a barrel of them? I wrote a note attached to the chair talking of downsizing and everything. I think he thoroughly enjoyed the joke.  Here's a photo of the finished product.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm anxious see his next move... I'm sure it will be good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-4763277721634723909?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/4763277721634723909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=4763277721634723909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/4763277721634723909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/4763277721634723909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-heart-office-in-reality-and-on-tv.html' title='i heart the office... in reality and on tv'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R_vj2YNiYcI/AAAAAAAACts/TYf_zeyhUIU/s72-c/Office-Cast-800x600.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-2339764851091268278</id><published>2008-04-03T11:50:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-04-03T12:06:16.289-05:00</updated><title type='text'>hi grandma</title><content type='html'>Yesterday marked the highly celebrated day of my boss's birthday. Since everyone knows that the world revolves around me (complete joke for those who know me) I got to thinking about my birthday and the year under my belt. It suddenly occurred to me that in November I will be a quarter of a century old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crazy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If that weren't enough, there's more! As you may know (yes both of my readers know) I work with college students. This week we got to meet a lot of incoming freshmen for next year. Did you know that next year's freshmen will be born in &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;1990&lt;/span&gt;??!! Hello I officially am old. If you see me walking on campus and feel compelled to call me grandma, gramps, nanna, maw-maw, granny, grams, grammy, or any other grandmotherly name instead of Staci-- I understand and I will probably answer. That is if my hip doesn't break first.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-2339764851091268278?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/2339764851091268278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=2339764851091268278' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2339764851091268278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2339764851091268278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/04/hi-grandma.html' title='hi grandma'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-716569019694607968</id><published>2008-03-25T13:16:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T16:23:14.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>nothing to show for any of it</title><content type='html'>This morning I was able to participate in this learning experience offered on campus. As a student, faculty, or staff you can sign up for sessions to learn different tools in technology. It's offered through the &lt;a href="http://www.usm.edu/lec/"&gt;Learning Enhancement Center&lt;/a&gt; on campus. They are fabulous and I love them. I'm a dork, I know. They offer courses from Photoshop to Powerpoint to SPSS (a not so fun, but powerful research tool). And the best part-- they are FREE! (and my boss encourages us to go to them)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I sign up for these classes to learn more and expand my excellence (the classes are called Expanding Excellence). Well this morning I attended a class and LOVED it! (again- I'm a dork- I know). In my excitement of the project I created, I emailed it to my boss. You can imagine my excitement!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The subject line went along the lines of, "Look at what I learned!!" I attached the project which happened to be a quicktime movie. The text body talked for a line or two telling how great this program is and so on.  After sending the email I return back to my office for work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get back to the office and check my email. I have a response from boss about my project! Yay! I just know he is going to be equally excited about my ever growing knowledge. Ha! Wishful thinking! I open the reply email to read:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"Nothing came up! Glad to know you learned nothing!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Are you kidding me?! This can only happen to me! I'm tempted to take my boss across campus to the computer I was working on earlier to show him I did in fact attend the session and learn something. Oh well... Better luck next time I suppose... I really did learn a lot... obviously I missed the "How to Save PROPERLY" section. Oops!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-716569019694607968?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/716569019694607968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=716569019694607968' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/716569019694607968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/716569019694607968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/03/nothing-to-show-for-any-of-it.html' title='nothing to show for any of it'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-6295961445471443765</id><published>2008-03-24T20:13:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T20:43:07.382-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the last supper</title><content type='html'>This weekend marked the festive holiday of Easter. You know, that religious holiday where bunnies suddenly lay eggs of chocolate in celebration of the resurrection of Christ. I've grown up getting excited about what I will I find in my Easter basket, wondering how a bunny could ever possibly hop into my room and leave that basket of sugary goodness beside my bed. Since then, I still enjoy when the Cadbury Creme Eggs come out to play, but my wonderment has changed from how that bunny hops in to how that bunny has ANYTHING to do with Easter? but that's not really my point...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We've all seen (probably not the original) the painting of "The Last Supper" by Di Vinci, or at least heard about it. Last week I was able to see a re-enactment of it-- a "Living Last Supper". Actors sat at the table frozen in place like the painting. One at a time, the characters came to life reflecting their thoughts and life. It was so interesting to see. A great way to learn about the different persons who were able to sit at the table with Jesus. After seeing this, I got to thinking about all the different ways this famous meal has been portrayed, and then I remembered a picture taken last summer. One hot evening, 13 friends got together and took a picture-- Last Supper style. Thought I would share.... in this photo, I played Andrew (third from the left).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R-hXaINiXXI/AAAAAAAACi8/i2R9r-q5yo8/s1600-h/lastsupper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R-hXaINiXXI/AAAAAAAACi8/i2R9r-q5yo8/s400/lastsupper.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181487477682232690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-6295961445471443765?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/6295961445471443765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=6295961445471443765' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/6295961445471443765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/6295961445471443765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/03/last-supper.html' title='the last supper'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R-hXaINiXXI/AAAAAAAACi8/i2R9r-q5yo8/s72-c/lastsupper.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-5363504452470355526</id><published>2008-03-11T13:50:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T14:11:20.219-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Bill Clinton Sighting</title><content type='html'>Today is Mississippi Primaries... make sure you go out and vote. Since the Democratic nominee has not been stated yet, Mississippi actually matters. In preparation for this day, the candidates have made a quick run through the state. On Friday, Hillary was in Hattiesburg at the train station. Saturday Bill visited JCJC. Sunday Chelsea made an appearance at Milsaps. Monday Obama got a word in at Jackson State.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9bZP1038JI/AAAAAAAAChE/-s36Y48i17c/s1600-h/bill2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9bZP1038JI/AAAAAAAAChE/-s36Y48i17c/s200/bill2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176563687879078034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was unable to see Hillary at Friday, but a three of us went over to Ellisville to see Bill on Saturday. I was thinking on the drive over, if elected Bill will be the FIRST first Husband. Obviously I'm not the first to ponder this, because there was a man at the rally with this exact button.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9bW4l038HI/AAAAAAAACg0/x5ibdWbO4hU/s1600-h/button.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9bW4l038HI/AAAAAAAACg0/x5ibdWbO4hU/s200/button.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176561089423863922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9bWyV038GI/AAAAAAAACgs/R8O9o63kfdw/s1600-h/buttonboy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9bWyV038GI/AAAAAAAACgs/R8O9o63kfdw/s200/buttonboy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176560982049681506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;While at the rally we were able to get our Bill Clinton books signed, be annoyed by some lady, shake his hand, stand behind THE tallest man with THE broadest shoulders and get a picture with Bill in the background. All in all a fun day. A 5 hour event enjoyed! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-5363504452470355526?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/5363504452470355526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=5363504452470355526' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5363504452470355526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5363504452470355526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/03/bill-clinton-sighting.html' title='A Bill Clinton Sighting'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9bZP1038JI/AAAAAAAAChE/-s36Y48i17c/s72-c/bill2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-2512918231825747006</id><published>2008-03-10T14:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T15:02:38.548-05:00</updated><title type='text'>welcome to the REAL WORLD</title><content type='html'>No, I did not make it to the finals of The Real World application process. No, I did not apply. I am talking about the actual "real world". This thing that happens, or is supposed to happen, after college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year marks my OFFICIAL first year in the "real world". So far, there's not much to complain about. I really like it. No homework. No classes. No papers. No book fees. What could be bad about this? Well, this week answers that question-- NO SPRING BREAK!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This wouldn't be so bad, if I worked maybe in a bank or somewhere, anywhere other than where I do.  BUT I work on a college campus, and the fact that this week is Spring Break is evident everywhere you turn. Campus is so quiet right now. The bulk of students were ready to split from campus last Thursday and most did.  That periodic bump from above is oddly missed. Knowing its Spring Break, I think back to last year's. A Road Trip through the Southeast with Tabitha. By now we were half way through Georgia, with anticipation of visiting Savannah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9WRTl038FI/AAAAAAAACgk/CV6B8CmzJ5o/s1600-h/sb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9WRTl038FI/AAAAAAAACgk/CV6B8CmzJ5o/s200/sb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176203112489676882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Here's a picture from last year to reminisce-- taken outside the capitol building in SC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Although I do not get a Spring Break, I feel as though I've already had one. This weekend was crazy busy. On Saturday I attended a soccer game. The team I was watching won! yay! Go Strikers! I then headed over to JCJC to see the one and only Mr. President Bill Clinton! I'll tell more about that when I get pictures. Sunday I attended a cookout at Kamper Park. I spent the entire day outside. Thankfully the weather was BEAUTIFUL! Today though I am slightly sunburned in a not-so-even coverage sort of way. Oh well... what you can do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-2512918231825747006?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/2512918231825747006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=2512918231825747006' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2512918231825747006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2512918231825747006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/03/welcome-to-real-world.html' title='welcome to the REAL WORLD'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R9WRTl038FI/AAAAAAAACgk/CV6B8CmzJ5o/s72-c/sb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-8788821832349886234</id><published>2008-03-04T07:10:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-04T23:38:12.798-06:00</updated><title type='text'>funny how... complimenting differences</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Isn't it funny how we just brush compliments off, or do we just think they are brushed off. Some people give them all the time, others once in a blue moon. Compliments come in so many different forms, but the way they are accepted can be equally large in variation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;One of the best compliments for a woman to give another women is to compliment their choice clothing for the day. It's funny though how, most women take it in so quickly that the realization of a compliment is questionable. Instead of thanking the other, they use this as a chance to show off their bargain shopping abilities. And when I say all this, I am NOT pointing my finger at others. I am the first to admit, I AM TOTALLY GUILTY OF THIS. The pointed finger is absolutely turned back and bouncing in my face.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've (as in ladies) all overheard and been a part of a conversation that goes something like the following:&lt;br /&gt;Woman 1: "That's a really cute shirt." (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This sentence can vary depending on the garment of topic and the typical language used by the person. In this sentence also lies the compliment&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;Woman 2: "Oh, get this-- Belk. $21.49. On Sale. Originally $62.50." (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Usually stated like baseball stats, but always including the totaled paid with the amount saved and/or original&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; price&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question-- Does that person really need to know how you spend your money? Does that person want to know? Did that person ask?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You don't typically see two guys excitedly chatting about the latest great buy from Banana Republic, Gander Mountain perhaps, but that's a whole other story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Compliment HER shoes-- you're good as gold.&lt;br /&gt;Compliment HIS shoes-- you might get a questionable glare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-8788821832349886234?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/8788821832349886234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=8788821832349886234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8788821832349886234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/8788821832349886234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/03/funny-how-complimenting-differences.html' title='funny how... complimenting differences'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-7938988762175097691</id><published>2008-02-28T14:14:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-28T16:44:02.934-06:00</updated><title type='text'>an act of randomness</title><content type='html'>Today I was running a quick errand on campus. I decided before I left my office that I had to be quick in order to get to a class in plenty of time. So as I left the place of my errand, I was hurrying down the stairs. Now you have to understand the stairs I was hurrying down are slightly different from other stairs-- they are located in a huge curve with a railing going through the middle. Being the oh-so-safe person I am, I took the outer side (it's wider steps, more confidence for ladies in heels, like myself).  As I started down the "stairs of death", they've always kinda frightened me (I can just see myself tumbling down the skidding to a halt at the front doors of the building on my face) when a young man approaches me on the inner track of the stairs. I smile, that's what we do in the South. He says, "Hey, how are ya?". I reply with a, "Hi, fine thanks". I continue on my way down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End of story in my mind, NOT his.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then takes this exchange as a conversation opener and decides to turn around and start walking down the stairs beside me. Remember he was originally traveling up. This stranger then says, "You look really good today".  As the thought- how do you know what I look like any other day? You've never seen me before- goes through my mind, I flash a nervous smile and reply thank you and hurry on my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joke when I say that I wore my intellectual glasses today, but honestly don't I at least look smarter than that? Come on, guys. Does that really work on some girls?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-7938988762175097691?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/7938988762175097691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=7938988762175097691' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7938988762175097691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/7938988762175097691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/02/act-of-randomness.html' title='an act of randomness'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-1543087399398682550</id><published>2008-02-23T16:46:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T16:58:44.807-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I think pigs just flew...</title><content type='html'>This afternoon I was blessed by a visit from my dad. He was in town for the afternoon and called to meet me for lunch. Yay! While we were waiting on a delicious meal of shrimp and oysters, my dad told me about not being able to get in touch with someone. I told him to just text them. Recently I received my first text message from my dad on Valentine's Day-- pretty much a big deal. He grinned and said, "You're right, I should. I didn't even think of that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few minutes of typing a short message, I introduced the concept of predictive text. His mind was blown by the sheer genius of text messaging! He then tells me he would "rather text than talk to people. It's the easier thing to do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait! What? Hold the press-- Pigs are officially flying!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can not tell you how many arguments have occurred in the past over the phone bill with my amount of text messages being the topic of choice. I can distinctly remember being told that there was absolutely NO reason for it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so shocked, I asked him to repeat himself. Crazy! It's true. He said it. My dad has crossed over into the light. Watch out for the growing number of older adults using the technology of today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-1543087399398682550?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/1543087399398682550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=1543087399398682550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1543087399398682550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1543087399398682550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-think-pigs-just-flew.html' title='I think pigs just flew...'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-6693173898942327311</id><published>2008-02-22T09:53:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T10:14:29.247-06:00</updated><title type='text'>uncle sam wants you... to be the angel you already are</title><content type='html'>Recently one my bests, Tabitha, introduced me to a program called &lt;a href="http://www.soldiersangels.com/"&gt;Soldier's Angels.&lt;/a&gt; Their whole cause is Soldiers. Tabitha didn't really introduce me to the program as much as sign me up for it one day. I have now committed, with the signing up help of her, to send a letter a week and a care package once a month for the next year. Now Tabitha has a boyfriend in the huge sandbox of Afghanistan. She regularly writes him and sends packages. This could have been the reason for quickly putting my name in the sign up blank. That or just her trying to give me something to do, I'm not completely sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, she asked before hitting submit and everything. So this did not happen without me being completely aware. After being bombarded with the longest emails known to man from the service for a day or two, I thought a had a good idea of the program. I was strictly told not to treat the service as a dating service, and not to expect a response from my adopted soldier, and to send the stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday of the second week, I rushed into my office to write my letter for the week and there in my inbox was an email from an unknown sender. Being the procrastinator that I can be at times, I opened it first instead of writing my letter. To my surprise and excitement it was from my soldier! Yay! This won't be such a boring year as I thought! So now we email instead of snail mail. No postage! Yahoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recommend anyone signing up for the program. It's easy and fun! What? You don't support the war? Well can't you at least support the soldiers? Yes. I think so. You don't have to like the war to be a supporter of our troops! It's our American duty... okay a little overkill I know, but you get the point.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-6693173898942327311?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/6693173898942327311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=6693173898942327311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/6693173898942327311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/6693173898942327311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/02/uncle-sam-wants-you-to-be-angel-you.html' title='uncle sam wants you... to be the angel you already are'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-3422698200469701604</id><published>2008-02-18T11:40:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T12:14:36.559-06:00</updated><title type='text'>remember when...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7nGXkT8gcI/AAAAAAAACeA/TmzqaoR4Xb4/s1600-h/bff.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7nGXkT8gcI/AAAAAAAACeA/TmzqaoR4Xb4/s200/bff.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168380155570979266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Remember when we were little and the greatest gift to give or receive from your best friend was one of the BFF necklaces? Those were the coolest thing ever to have. You would go to the mall with best friend, mom driving of course, and head directly to Claire's. Then standing in front in a huge wall packed full of what looks like junk today, you would agonize over which necklace was the perfect one that described your friendship. After a little while and rushing from your mom, you and your friends were ready to purchase your symbols of friendship with a combined savings of $4.99. Of course you have to wear the necklace out of the store (or it wouldn't be a true friendship) and never take it off, at least not until you acquired a green tinted ring around your neck where the chain lays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now-a-days expressing your friendship is not the same. But I have to admit I have recently&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7nGf0T8gdI/AAAAAAAACeI/j4XGMOGiRvY/s1600-h/pearls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7nGf0T8gdI/AAAAAAAACeI/j4XGMOGiRvY/s200/pearls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168380297304900050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; received a friendship necklace in the mail from one of my bests and I absolutely love it. &lt;a href="http://www.dogeared.com/"&gt;Dogeared.com&lt;/a&gt; is selling a necklace called "Pearls of...". You can pick which type of pearl you want to purchase. Pearls of... success, friendship, love, beauty, and happiness. Plus its not just a necklace, but it comes displayed with a write-up relating the pearl to the characteristic it symbolizes.  So... if you're in the market to send a little happy that will brighten any day (even your own)... make sure you look this up for consideration. True you might have to fork over more than the $4.99 of yesterday, but guaranteed you friends neck will not change odd colors tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-3422698200469701604?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/3422698200469701604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=3422698200469701604' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3422698200469701604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/3422698200469701604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/02/remember-when.html' title='remember when...'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7nGXkT8gcI/AAAAAAAACeA/TmzqaoR4Xb4/s72-c/bff.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-2160287227267012778</id><published>2008-02-13T16:45:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T17:13:22.813-06:00</updated><title type='text'>full circle</title><content type='html'>The phone rings. I answer with a chipper, "Yes,  do you have a request for a song? I can quickly call up and put your it in to be played next." If you're wondering, no I do not work at a radio station of any type. I work in an office that just so happens to be located in a residence hall. Not just any residence hall, mind you, a FRESHMEN MALE residence hall. My co-worker, who is at the other end and next door, giggles and asks something else. She knows the exact reason for my comments. I have come to believe that directly above my office is the making of a small band, complete with bass guitar and drums. And when the musicians are out, the DJs of the group take over the entertainment. This is not the first time this has happened and definitely won't be the last. I say a quick apology to my co-workers for the noise.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7N4gUT8gbI/AAAAAAAACd4/a21Ftp6AJ18/s1600-h/loudmusic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7N4gUT8gbI/AAAAAAAACd4/a21Ftp6AJ18/s200/loudmusic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5166605694127604146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why apology for someone else's noise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I have reason to believe the noise is only making a full circle back to me.  I'll explain... My sophomore year my roommate and I thought we were somewhat of 'professional cloggers' and we really enjoyed showing off our skills. Meaning-- we liked to put on our wooden shoes (yes, they were once in style, I promise) and dance around the tiles floors outside our fourth floor room. After a minute or two of racket we would run into our rooms, throw the shoes in the closet and jump on the bed to act like we're watching tv. Within minutes the residents from below would rush upstairs with a look of panic on their faces. "Oh my gosh what's going on? Is everything okay? We heard a lot of noise!", they would exclaim. My roommate and I would look at them questioningly and assure them they did not hear anything. Confused they would return to their floor. A few minutes later we would be back in the hall dancing with our musical shoes to start the whole charade again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now it is apparent, I am being taught a lesson: Remember to be courteous of other's ears or yours will hurt later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-2160287227267012778?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/2160287227267012778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=2160287227267012778' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2160287227267012778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2160287227267012778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/02/full-circle.html' title='full circle'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7N4gUT8gbI/AAAAAAAACd4/a21Ftp6AJ18/s72-c/loudmusic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-1255421213702020376</id><published>2008-02-11T16:39:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T17:10:26.994-06:00</updated><title type='text'>short recount</title><content type='html'>This weekend was great! Really it was. I usually just have so-so weekends, but I have to say I feel good about this past one. Why was it so good? you ask. Well, let's recount:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday I got off work after working another week with quite possibly the most wonderful people in the world (sorry if I don't work you, I'm sure you're great too), then went to a Valentine's Ball. Don't be &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7DViUT8gaI/AAAAAAAACdw/KoPBaUo1fRE/s1600-h/valentines_day.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7DViUT8gaI/AAAAAAAACdw/KoPBaUo1fRE/s200/valentines_day.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165863558138593698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;confused I did participate in the ball as an attendee, but as a chaperone. My sister has already informed me that I should be doing what normal "Fresh Out of College People" do and not acting like an old fogie.  She has it wrong though. I was NOT the youngest chaperone there and everyone was the same age for the most part aside from the fourth through sixth graders breaking it down on the dance floor. Even though my duties consisted of making sure no one got in a fight or danced too terribly close, I did happen to make it to the dance floor a few times. I'm glad to say that I have reached that time in my life where it doesn't matter all that much when kids make fun of me, which is a good thing because they were definitely laughing at my old school dance skills. Hopefully they enjoyed their night laughs and all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After cleaning up after the dance I went to see the newly released "Fool's Gold". FABULOUS! Very entertaining with two thumbs up. Another two thumbs way up for the fact that Matthew McConaughey is shirtless for the majority of the movie. (I'm really  not one of those kinds of girls that drools over guys with no shirts, but this is Matthew McConaughey, come on!) A must buy for when it comes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I have been able to borrow a sewing machine. So I have&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7DT90T8gZI/AAAAAAAACdo/xs2QvnaoWQA/s1600-h/21jHEPM9IjL._AA160_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7DT90T8gZI/AAAAAAAACdo/xs2QvnaoWQA/s200/21jHEPM9IjL._AA160_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165861831561740690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; decided to make some clothes for myself. I figured this is something that will take up my time since I don't have to study or do homework right now. I found a pattern for a jacket and dress. The package said simple (no, that's not the brand). I also found a pattern for some pants. Now I have to pick the fabric. Wish me luck! Hopefully I have undiscovered skills with the sewing machine and my project will not end up looking like this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-1255421213702020376?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/1255421213702020376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=1255421213702020376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1255421213702020376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/1255421213702020376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/02/short-recount.html' title='short recount'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R7DViUT8gaI/AAAAAAAACdw/KoPBaUo1fRE/s72-c/valentines_day.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-754392235306852199</id><published>2008-02-05T09:05:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-05T11:35:23.234-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the skinny on the skinny...</title><content type='html'>Just as the second month of the year has started, I have noticed the push of 'skinny'.  Right when some of those new year resolutions to shed a few pounds might begin to falter, you can now purchase merchandise with skinny in the name in order to remind yourself of your goals. My personal opinions:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6h98x21okI/AAAAAAAACc4/w3MICbnCMZM/s1600-h/skinny_jeans_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6h98x21okI/AAAAAAAACc4/w3MICbnCMZM/s200/skinny_jeans_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163515455909241410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The Skinny Jean: Enough time has passed since skinny jeans were in for them to be the hot new item again.  After some  thinking about purchasing a pair, I decided I like them and want them. I had some reservations though. I mean, can someone with 'not-so-skinny' legs pull off skinny jeans? We will have to see about that one.  I have officially purchased my first pair and love them! (by the by... the picture featured here is NOT me... I know some of might have mistaken the legs for mine, but no)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two giant thumbs up from me! smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6iciR21olI/AAAAAAAACdA/D70i8eu2YFg/s1600-h/lattes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6iciR21olI/AAAAAAAACdA/D70i8eu2YFg/s200/lattes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163549085503169106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now some might wonder how am I going to fit into these skinny jeans, Starbucks has come up with a solution for the coffee lovers. (Actually they've always had it, just now showing it off). The skinny latte. It's nothing new really just a latte with skim milk and sugar-free syrups. My personal suggestion is the skinny hazelnut and caramel latte! Excellent combination! According to the 'Nutrition by the cup' guide I keep at my desk you can but &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;50 &lt;/span&gt;calories by just switching from 2% to nonfat milk in a tall latte. Not bad, and not that big of a difference in taste. Another 2 thumbs way up!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-754392235306852199?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/754392235306852199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=754392235306852199' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/754392235306852199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/754392235306852199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/02/skinny-on-skinny.html' title='the skinny on the skinny...'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6h98x21okI/AAAAAAAACc4/w3MICbnCMZM/s72-c/skinny_jeans_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-5060649144902669664</id><published>2008-02-04T18:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T20:22:42.286-06:00</updated><title type='text'>a great weekend in a great city with a great friend</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This weekend I was able to take a vacation to one the greatest cities in America. A city where you can find a Starbucks on EVERY corner. (I know that could be any place in America) A city where the color of a house is the only way to describe the home of our leader. A city with a huge mall containing no retail. A city where museums and zoos are free of admission. A city where much history has happened and much history is made. A city where cabs have no meters, just a map with prices.  A city that affects every other town and suburb in the nation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Washington, DC &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have returned from DC and am now back in the real world, well my real world and no longer on vacation. For the record, I had a&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; FABULOUS&lt;/span&gt; time! I flew into Baltimore on Friday morning and after waiting for the train rode down to DC. Then spent the weekend sight-seeing and catching up with Jessica. On Sunday evening I caught another train to Baltimore and then flew back to Mississippi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Highlights of the trip:&lt;br /&gt;1. Seeing Jessica&lt;br /&gt;2. Lincoln Memorial&lt;br /&gt;3. Holocaust Museum&lt;br /&gt;4. Museum of Modern Art&lt;br /&gt;5. Cheesecake Factory&lt;br /&gt;6. Georgetown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;7. the Beautiful weather&lt;br /&gt;8. last but definitely not least.... having my camera with me at all times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6e05x21oKI/AAAAAAAACZg/tE03tsfhWaI/s1600-h/IMG_2598.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 157px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6e05x21oKI/AAAAAAAACZg/tE03tsfhWaI/s320/IMG_2598.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163294402532450466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6e1Kh21oLI/AAAAAAAACZo/KNSM4Q6LOr0/s1600-h/IMG_2587.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 215px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6e1Kh21oLI/AAAAAAAACZo/KNSM4Q6LOr0/s320/IMG_2587.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163294690295259314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6e5eh21oOI/AAAAAAAACaA/U-c6if1IKPs/s1600-h/IMG_2628.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 161px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6e5eh21oOI/AAAAAAAACaA/U-c6if1IKPs/s320/IMG_2628.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163299431939154146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do have to say, after visiting I am oddly inspired to start jogging. Everyone does it &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ALL&lt;/span&gt; the time there! It did not matter what time of the day, there were not one, but multiple people jogging. 8 am-joggers. 7 pm-joggers. 12 pm-joggers. 2:45 pm-joggers. 1:15 am-joggers. Joggers all the time. Where do they find the energy?! I now feel rightly out of shape. Here lies my change for Lent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Just a memo for anyone traveling to DC and planning on seeing the Holocaust Museum:&lt;br /&gt;It's intense. Very intense. Before you enter the building, there is this sign that reads:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;"The next time you see injustice, the next time you witness hatred, the next time you hear about genocide, Think about what you saw".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Reading it before I went in didn't mean as much as it did when I left. It really makes you think about how hate can be carried out and influence others . My challenge to myself is to not stop at thinking, I hope I will be able to better stand up for what is right.  The Holocaust Museum, a very sobering experience, but one I feel everyone should experience.**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-5060649144902669664?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/5060649144902669664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=5060649144902669664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5060649144902669664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/5060649144902669664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/02/great-weekend-in-great-city-with-great.html' title='a great weekend in a great city with a great friend'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/R6e05x21oKI/AAAAAAAACZg/tE03tsfhWaI/s72-c/IMG_2598.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-2770434922168532810</id><published>2008-01-31T15:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T15:49:24.561-06:00</updated><title type='text'>an exciting weekend ahead... or is it a month?</title><content type='html'>I got an email two weeks back from my sweet friend, Jessica, telling about her work and all. She is a traveling consultant and is always in a different state with an amazingly funny story to tell. On two separate occasions she has asked me to meet her in one of her random cities to play and see the sights. On both separate occasions I have not been able to. Well in this email she was asking again, this time in Washington D.C. I've been saving my money for another trip that just fell through, so I decided to look at ticket prices. Not too bad. After about 30 minutes of debating and lunch, I had a ticket. I can not tell you how excited I am. I leave tomorrow! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I leave tomorrow, my boss was asking about the weather and all. (He's excited about me going too... and not because he won't have to work with me for a day!) Well just so happens Northwest Airlines sends this nice little email that includes the weather forecast for your destination. So I pull it up and start talking about that when out of the corner of my eye I see the return day of Monday. That's wrong, I think to myself, I booked my return for Sunday, February 3.  But wait this is saying Monday is the third. Something is amiss with this email. So calmly I ask, "What day is the third? It's Sunday right?" My boss kinda looks at me with a little question while nodding yes. I look a little closer at the words quite plainly on my screen and in horror I see the problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Return: Monday, March 3"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MARCH 3! Are you kidding me?! This is what I yell at my computer as I almost jump out of my chair! A whole month off! Are you kidding me?! I have booked a return flight for a month later not a weekend later! This simply is not going to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I embarrassingly look up from my computer and say, "I booked my return flight for March not February." I hear a chuckle and instructions to call and get it fixed from my boss.  I run to my office and patiently wait for the customer service man to help me. I do have to say Northwest Airlines has very good customer service and another bonus the change of flights didn't cost that much. So with a huge sigh of relief I can say that I will be back in the office on Monday, February 4, not Tuesday, March 4. Pretty sure my checkbook is relieved too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-2770434922168532810?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/2770434922168532810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=2770434922168532810' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2770434922168532810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2770434922168532810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/01/exciting-weekend-ahead-or-is-it-month.html' title='an exciting weekend ahead... or is it a month?'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-9066613381331976599</id><published>2008-01-30T07:52:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T08:56:30.866-06:00</updated><title type='text'>"I feel the earth move under my feet, I feel the sky the tumbling down..."</title><content type='html'>Last night I had to work late. Not that I mind, at all. I actually love my job! And, I actually mean that, but last night there was this... moment. What kind of moment, you might ask. Well it was one of those moments when you're dancing through life happy about where you are and where you're headed, and then a bomb is dropped and you're faced with the question, "What are you doing? Are you kidding yourself?" Don't get me wrong, I'm not now sitting at my computer with the puzzlement of what I'm going to with my life . But in that moment, just that one moment, complete confusion and question was the only thing found on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work with students. That's my job. I got my master's to learn about how to work in this world of higher education. I took classes that only talked about the student of today. I payed attention for the most part during those classes. I studied the theories, and actually memorized some of them. Well, anyway, I had this meeting with students last night and after the meeting a few of the students decided they wanted to talk to and the other leader of the group. If I were to paraphrase the beginning of the conversation, it go something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    students: We want to talk to you about something.&lt;br /&gt;    leaders: okay&lt;br /&gt;    students: The games we play at the beginning of the meetings, we don't like them. We don't really want to play them anymore.&lt;br /&gt;    leaders: okay&lt;br /&gt;    (This is also the point if my life were a sitcom the camera would pan over to me and see a look of astonishment)&lt;br /&gt;    students: Basically the whole group feels this way. We just don't want to waste time. We would rather be told what we would learn and then start working&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;umm... WOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's like a comedian saying "I'm not going to go through this whole joke thing, I'll just cut to the chase and tell you the punch line... Hope you get it."&lt;br /&gt;To let you know, that's not where the conversation ended, the few of us continued to talk and I think we came to a good conclusion to work through for the semester, but like I said for that moment, my jaw dropped. Then later I had another with another group of students. This meeting was much different in nature with much different students. A good end to a good long day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-9066613381331976599?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/9066613381331976599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=9066613381331976599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/9066613381331976599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/9066613381331976599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-feel-earth-move-under-my-feet-i-feel.html' title='&quot;I feel the earth move under my feet, I feel the sky the tumbling down...&quot;'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271092187535720962.post-2154224194962367352</id><published>2008-01-23T09:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T09:35:06.050-06:00</updated><title type='text'>umm... hi</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;So this is my first blog-ever. Wow, exciting I know... Calm down though. I wanted to write something really short for my first blog to get over the initial anxiety of writing a blog. I know you're thinking, 'anxiety?' Yes, anxiety. I've created a blog in the past but then immediately deleted it. Fear of commitment I guess. I don't know. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So basically I see a blog as a spot to place your thoughts, funny (embarrassing) recounts of life, and questions that come up during the day that seem impossible to answer.  I figured since I occasionally have some thoughts and usually something embarrassingly funny happens to me, then a blog would be nice. I also have those questions that I have no clue about and instead of finding an answer, I would rather send it out into the great mystery of this thing we call the 'World Wide Web'. Maybe as my question floats around above all our heads, someone can snatch it up and know the answer. Maybe. Plus it will give me something to do in my down time.  So hi! Nice to be here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/271092187535720962-2154224194962367352?l=styce.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/feeds/2154224194962367352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=271092187535720962&amp;postID=2154224194962367352' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2154224194962367352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/271092187535720962/posts/default/2154224194962367352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://styce.blogspot.com/2008/01/umm-hi.html' title='umm... hi'/><author><name>Staci</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14805065297672247639</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='17' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_UtUn4dx4ATU/SDXkTauzBvI/AAAAAAAAC1U/JBpAP3hjyKs/S220/me_.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
